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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23955385">no love like your love</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/lalaland666'>lalaland666 (orphan_account)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>like your love [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Mob, Angst with a Happy Ending, Creepy Satan | Lucifer (Good Omens), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Gabriel Being an Asshole (Good Omens), Gaslighting, Gen, Genderqueer Crowley (Good Omens), Homophobia, Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, I’ll be adding tags as I go, M/M, Misgendering, Mutual Pining, Nonbinary Warlock Dowling, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Slow Burn, Transphobia, deadnaming, or at least as slow as i can manage, that tag applies to EVERYONE</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 15:13:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>76,678</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23955385</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/lalaland666</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Aziraphale Fell has been with Gabriel Wright for so long that he hardly knows life without him. So, even if Aziraphale doesn’t entirely approve of Gabriel’s… career choices… and even if Gabriel isn’t exactly <i>kind</i> nowadays… well, what’s he to do? Without Gabriel, he has nothing.<br/>—<br/>Anthony J. Crowley didn’t really mean to fall in with Lucian Sterling. But, y’know how it is. Things happen, you end up desperate, and then someone comes around promising a salary and a life in exchange for just causing a bit of trouble. How could he refuse?<br/>—<br/>When Aziraphale and Crowley meet by chance one night outside the bookshop, everything changes, and soon enough, they’re forced to choose– will they do what they’re told, and live the lives they’ve come to expect, or will they strike out on their own, and learn what love can truly be?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale &amp; Warlock Dowling, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Gabriel (Good Omens), Crowley &amp; Satan | Lucifer (Good Omens), Crowley &amp; Warlock Dowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>like your love [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1917628</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>116</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>236</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Meeting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Title from “Nobody” by Hozier. </p><p>So, confession time: this fic isn’t fully written yet, which is super uncharacteristic for me. But, I’m already on chapter 4, and I just want to know whether it’s worth the continued time and effort to write the rest of it. So, here’s part one, and if you guys are interested in a continuation, please, please, please let me know!! </p><p>Also, this fic deals heavily with abuse and abusive relationships (because when do my fics not revolve around causing Aziraphale and Crowley pain?). Please mind the tags (I’ll be adding to them as I go) and take care of yourselves. If I missed anything that’s already shown up, please let me know!! </p><p>Thank you for reading, and I hope you guys enjoy!!!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Crowley <i>had</i> been having a nice night. </p><p>"C'mon, guys," he said, raising his hands and backing his way slowly out of the alley, back towards the main street. "It wasn't my fault that your investments didn't pay off." </p><p>"It is your fault when you're the one who tanked the company," Hastur growled, stalking closer, clutching his knife. </p><p>Crowley barely managed to stop himself from scoffing. If he could tank entire companies on his own, he'd be in a very different place than he is now. "Listen, Hastur, I don't want trouble. If Lucian hears–" </p><p>"Lucian isn't here right now, is he?" Ligur chimed in. "Now, come on, Crawly. You've got a penance to pay." </p><p>Hastur lunged, and Crowley yelped, dodging to the side and nearly slamming into the opening door of one of the businesses along the alley. </p><p>"<i>What</i> is going on here?" a calm voice demanded, and Crowley spun to see who’d spoken. </p><p>The figure was soft and round, and the light from the shop behind him– some sort of bookshop, Crowley thought, based on the shelves– made his white hair look almost golden. </p><p>Hastur took advantage of the distraction to grab Crowley’s arms and pin them behind him, and Crowley hissed, tugging against his hold. </p><p>“Don’t worry about him,” Ligur said to the interloper, his voice dripping in menace. “Just go back inside and we’ll leave you alone.” </p><p>“I don’t think I shall,” the man said, folding his hands primly in front of him and walking towards Hastur, and Crowley fought not to groan. He could handle Hastur and Ligur on his own, but if he had to protect some idiotic Good Samaritan in a bloody <i>waistcoat</i>– </p><p>“I’m giving you one last chance to go back inside and forget about all of this,” said Ligur, pulling his own knife out of his belt. </p><p>The mystery man ignored him, walking over to where Hastur still had Crowley’s arms pinned. Up close, he looked slightly younger than Crowley had thought originally– actually, probably about Crowley’s age, despite the white hair. </p><p>His eyes were blue, bright and clear, and there was a strange sort of steel in them. </p><p>“Let him go,” the man said, his voice just as steely as his glare. </p><p>“Don’t–“ Crowley began. </p><p>Then Ligur lunged. </p><p>The man’s head snapped around, and he caught Ligur’s knife arm in one hand, holding him completely still. </p><p>Ligur cursed loudly. He brought his other hand up for a hit, but the man just stepped to the side, using Ligur’s own momentum to throw him into the alley wall. He landed with a <i>crack</i> and a yelp of pain. </p><p>“Shit…” Hastur breathed. </p><p>“I suggest,” the man said, his voice icy as he turned his gaze towards Hastur once more, “that you let him go. Your friend can still walk, but if you leave him there, I’m not sure for how much longer that will be true.” </p><p>“Fucking hell,” Hastur said, letting go of Crowley and running over to Ligur’s side. “Fucking psychopath. You can have him.” </p><p>He dragged Ligur upright, and together they staggered away. There was blood on Ligur’s face, and his eyes weren’t focusing. </p><p>“My dear, are you alright?” the man asked, taking a half a step closer to Crowley, his hands worrying together in front of him. </p><p>"M'fine," Crowley mumbled, shaking out his wrist briefly before stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Thanks for the assist." </p><p>"I would hardly call it that," the man said. "Are you at all hurt?" </p><p>“Nah,” Crowley said, shrugging and making his way back out onto the main street. To his surprise, the man came over to stand beside him, prim and upright, his hands clasped in front of him. </p><p>"You the owner?" Crowley asked, jerking his head towards the door. </p><p>"I am. My name is Aziraphale Fell," he said, and then he held his hand out and <i>smiled</i>, and Crowley felt as though he'd just been punched in the stomach. </p><p><i>Fuck, he looks like a bloody angel,</i> Crowley thought, and then he forced the thought aside as violently as he could, taking the man's– Aziraphale's– hand and shaking it. "Aziraphale, huh?” </p><p>“Religious parents, I’m afraid,” said Aziraphale, shrugging and folding his hands in front of him once more. </p><p>”Heh. I can understand that. I’m Crowley." </p><p>"Crowley," Aziraphale said, like he was trying it out, and something in Crowley's chest clenched. "It's very nice to meet you. I do wish it could have been under better circumstances, though. Are you sure they didn’t manage to do any damage before I distracted them?" </p><p>"Nope," Crowley said, flashing Aziraphale a smile and then determinedly looking away. "Your timing was perfect. Where’d you learn to fight like that?” </p><p>Aziraphale shifted uncomfortably. “I, um. I served in Afghanistan, for a little while.” </p><p>There was silence for a brief moment, and Crowley noticed that Aziraphale was bracing himself, as though waiting for more questions about his time abroad. Crowley recognized that look– it was the same one he tended to wear whenever careers came up in conversation. </p><p>“Had this place long, then?" Crowley asked, desperate to keep the conversation going, no matter how forced. </p><p>Aziraphale smiled gratefully. "Oh, yes, nearly twelve years now.” </p><p>“Twelve years?” Crowley asked. “You must have been young, then, when you got it.” </p><p>“Not as young as all that,” Aziraphale said, glancing down. “I was twenty-five.” </p><p>"Huh," Crowley said, looking Aziraphale up and down. That meant he was Crowley’s age, nearly exactly. "Funny I haven't seen you, then, I come this way pretty often." </p><p>"Oh, I don't get out much," Aziraphale said, glancing away from Crowley. "Bit… bit of a homebody." </p><p>"Do you live here, then?" Crowley asked. Then he silently cursed himself. "Sorry. Weird question. You don't have to answer." </p><p>"No, it's quite alright," Aziraphale said, smiling again, and that stupid thing in Crowley's chest clenched again. "There is a flat above the shop, but I mostly use it for storage. My ride home should be here just about any minute now, though I’m sure I could delay him if you need help getting home.” </p><p>"Gotcha," Crowley said. "Hastur and Ligur are probably at the hospital by now, so I should be good.” </p><p>Aziraphale frowned. "You knew them?" </p><p>"Sort of," Crowley said, shrugging. He <i>really</i> didn't want to get into it, especially not here. </p><p>Aziraphale pursed his lips slightly, but didn't push. </p><p>"Right," Crowley said. "Thanks again for the distraction. I suppose I'll get out of your hair now." </p><p>"Oh, I've still got a few minutes," Aziraphale said, “i-if you… I mean, if you'd rather– you don’t have to…" </p><p>Crowley blinked. He wanted…? "I mean… few more minutes can't hurt, either. 'Specially with my guardian angel so close." </p><p>Aziraphale blushed, and that stupid thing in Crowley's chest clenched again. God, he really was pretty, wasn't he? "Oh, I wouldn't go <i>that</i> far." </p><p>Crowley grinned. "Seriously. You did save my skin back there. Literally, probably, what with the knives and all." </p><p>"I had noticed that," Aziraphale said. "Are they always like that?" </p><p>"Pretty much," Crowley said. </p><p>"Oh, dear," Aziraphale said. "I'm so very sorry to hear that." </p><p>"Meh, s'life," Crowley shrugged. </p><p>"Well, if you ever need another distraction, I'd be happy to provide one.” </p><p>Crowley grinned again. "Like I said. Guardian angel." </p><p>Aziraphale laughed. "Oh, hush." </p><p>There was silence between them for a moment, broken only by the slightly-subdued sounds of London at midnight, but this time it was almost… comfortable. Gentle and warm and oddly safe. </p><p>Then a drop of rain landed on Crowley's head, and he glanced up, glaring as powerfully as he could manage at the sky before sidling to the side a little bit, trying to place as much of himself as he could under the shop's siding and definitely <i>not</i> noticing how he was now close enough to Aziraphale that their shoulders were nearly brushing. </p><p>"Oh, dear," Aziraphale murmured, and then he– he shrugged off his coat, and held it up over Crowley's head, shielding him from the quickly-worsening storm. </p><p>Crowley blinked over at him, his mouth falling open and his eyes widening near-comically behind his classes as the rain started to fall harder. Aziraphale was– he was– he– </p><p>The man, the <i>angel</i>, looked over at Crowley, a soft smile spreading across his face, raindrops landing in his hair as he transferred the coat into Crowley's grip. </p><p>"Don't want you getting all wet," he said, as though that could possibly explain <i>this</i>. </p><p>"Guardian angel," Crowley repeated, grinning, and Aziraphale laughed, bright and cheerful. </p><p>Something very, very warm was building in Crowley's stomach and spreading slowly throughout his whole body, and he forced it back, desperately hoping that whatever it was wasn't showing on his face. Fuck. He couldn't afford to feel like this. He was a <i>professional</i>, he had shit to do, he <i>couldn't</i>– </p><p>“Um,” Aziraphale said, “I don’t mean to be… I don’t mean to be rude, and you’re more than welcome to ignore me entirely, if you’d like, but…” </p><p>“Spit it out, angel,” Crowley said, more than a little nervous about what he could be asking. </p><p>Aziraphale blushed slightly at the nickname, then asked, “Um… your glasses. It’s just… it’s rather late for sunglasses, and I was wondering– I’m sorry, I’m being rude, I’m sure–“ </p><p>“No,” Crowley said. “No, you’re not. They’re prescription. I’ve got… y’know. More eye conditions than doctors know what to do with. This is the result.” </p><p>“Ah,” Aziraphale said. “May I… no, I’m sorry, I’m being ridiculous, ignore me.” </p><p>“What?” Crowley asked, genuinely confused now. </p><p>“May I see them?” Aziraphale blurted out. Then he flushed red. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean– you’re well within your rights to say no, I didn’t mean to– I’m sorry–“ </p><p>“No, no, s’alright,” Crowley said. “I just… are you sure?” </p><p>“I would never want to make you–“ </p><p>“Not that,” said Crowley, shaking his head and noticing as he did that Aziraphale’s shirt was soaking through. </p><p>He tore his eyes away determinedly, clearing his throat. “They just… they tend to scare people.” </p><p>“I sincerely doubt that they’ll manage to frighten me,” said Aziraphale, smiling gently. “I promise, I’ve seen worse than your eyes.” </p><p>Crowley desperately wanted to ask after that, to dissect the aching sadness in Aziraphale’s voice, but he didn’t want to pry. Instead, he shifted so he was holding up the jacket in one hand and pulled his sunglasses off, then looked back over to meet Aziraphale’s eyes. </p><p>“Oh,” Aziraphale breathed, his voice soft and his gaze locked with Crowley’s. “Oh, they’re–“ </p><p>“Snake eyes, I know,” said Crowley, shoving his glasses back on and looking away. </p><p>“I was going to say <i>lovely</i>,” said Aziraphale, his voice still just as soft. “I’ve never seen that colour before.” </p><p>Crowley looked back over at him, positive he was making fun– but his gaze was just as earnest as it had been before. </p><p>“Thank you,” Aziraphale said. “For showing me.” </p><p>“Ngk.” Crowley wasn’t sure what to say to that. “Yeah. Um. S’no problem.” </p><p>Silence fell, gentle but heavy, and that stupid warm thing in Crowley’s chest seemed to expand to fill it. God fucking dammit, this was going to be a– </p><p>A car pulled up, and the window rolled down to reveal a very handsome man sitting in the driver's seat, with a positively chiseled jaw, perfectly-coiffed brown hair and an utterly impeccable suit. </p><p>"Get over here before you get all soaked, sunshine!" the man called, his accent American and his voice obnoxiously cheerful. </p><p>"That's my ride," Aziraphale said, rather unnecessarily, smiling apologetically at Crowley. "I, um. It was nice to meet you." </p><p>Then he hurried off, clambering into the car and closing the door behind him, and was gone before Crowley could say anything about the coat. </p><p><i>That's all right</i>, he thought, still huddled underneath it as he hurried back towards his flat– he had a meeting with Lucian tomorrow evening, and needed all the rest he could get before that. <i>Just means I'll need to go back to the shop and give it back. That's it, though. Not like I can hang around there. Not like he'd like a lowlife like me hanging around, anyhow. Just giving the coat back. That's all. That is </i>it. </p><p>The warm thing in Crowley's chest twisted, and Crowley cursed under his breath as he ran. </p><p>### </p><p>Aziraphale stared out of the window after Crowley for as long as he could without having to twist his body to do it. </p><p>"Who was that?" Gabriel asked, an odd undercurrent in his voice. </p><p>Aziraphale jumped slightly. "Oh! Nobody. He just… there were some men about to attack him, and I stopped them. That's all." </p><p>"Hm," Gabriel said, frowning. "He was pretty handsome, wasn't he?" </p><p>"I hadn't noticed," Aziraphale lied. </p><p>"What was his name again?" </p><p>"I didn't ask." Something in Aziraphale's stomach twisted at the lying, as it always did, but he knew better than to admit that they'd had a proper conversation. </p><p>"You gave him your jacket." </p><p>"I didn't want him to get soaked, dear." </p><p>"No, instead you decided to ruin my seats." </p><p>Aziraphale shifted slightly, blushing. "Oh– oh, dear, I, um–" </p><p>"Hey," Gabriel said, stopping at a light and turning to face Aziraphale more fully. "I'm just concerned. You know how gullible you can be, I'd hate for someone to take advantage of that." </p><p>"I know, and I appreciate your concern, but you really don't need to worry." </p><p>"I always worry about you." Gabriel flashed Aziraphale a broad smile, then faced front again. "That's my job, isn't it?" </p><p>Aziraphale smiled back, even though his partner couldn't see him. "How was work today, darling? Any progress on your case?" </p><p>"Oh, it was incredible! You'd never believe how stupid the other side is. Or, well, <i>you</i> might, but I was shocked, I'll tell you."</p><p>Gabriel chatted on about his current case for the rest of the drive, some fairly-standard corporate lawsuit only made interesting by the opposition's incompetence, and Aziraphale let his mind wander. He hoped that Crowley would be safe going home, and that Hastur and Ligur wouldn't manage to find him again. Aziraphale knew <i>of</i> them, though he hadn’t had the misfortune of meeting them before– they worked for Gabriel’s largest rival for control of London, a man named Lucian Sterling. If Crowley knew them... </p><p>Aziraphale forcibly shoved that thought away. He didn’t expect to see that coat returned, which was slightly unfortunate, as it had been one of his favorites, but he could hardly imagine Crowley coming back. After all, to do that, he'd have to <i>choose</i> to see Aziraphale again, and Aziraphale knew exactly how likely that scenario was, no matter how much he might hope– </p><p>"Earth to Aziraphale," Gabriel said, and Aziraphale jerked himself out of his reverie. </p><p>"Sorry, dear, I, um… zoned out, I suppose," Aziraphale said. </p><p>Gabriel frowned. "You alright? Do you need to take a day or two off?" </p><p>"No, no, of course not," Aziraphale said, waving his hand airily. "I'm perfectly fine. Just… distracted." </p><p>Gabriel's frown deepened. "It wasn't the redhead, was it? Did he do something?" </p><p>"Not at all," Aziraphale said. "Let's head in, shall we? I'll get dinner started, and you can relax." </p><p>At that, Gabriel's frown lessened, though he still didn't look entirely reassured. "Right. Sounds good. By the way, the rest of the team is coming over for dinner tomorrow, so make sure you don't forget to go shopping, yeah?" </p><p>Aziraphale nodded, forcing a smile. Oh, to do the shopping, he'd need to close the shop early, and then of course he had to actually prepare the food, and then sit through a dinner with the other three members of Gabriel's team… </p><p>Ah, well. Such was life, wasn't it? And it was hardly as though Gabriel could take time out of his schedule to do such things. </p><p>The rest of the evening passed much as it always did, though when Aziraphale finally climbed into bed, long after Gabriel had fallen asleep, he found his mind wandering once more to his encounter at closing time. </p><p><i>I hope he comes back</i>, he thought, and he hardly had time to scold himself for it before he was falling asleep, to dream of soft red curls and warm golden eyes. </p><p>### </p><p>Crowley almost didn’t find the place again– it looked significantly dingier in the daytime. But “A. Z. Fell and Co.” was clearly written above the windows, and the sign on the door said “open”, and so Crowley gripped the coat a little tighter and pushed the door open. </p><p>Inside, the shop was almost deserted. Aziraphale was standing at the front counter, and he turned at the jingling of the bell. </p><p>“Hey,” Crowley said. </p><p>Aziraphale’s face split into a beaming grin. “Crowley! I didn’t think I’d see you again.” </p><p>“I wanted to bring this back,” Crowley said, holding the coat out. “And, um. Say thanks. Again.” </p><p>“Don’t mention it, my dear,” Aziraphale said, bustling over to take the coat from Crowley, rewarding him with another beaming smile on the way. “I do hope you managed to get home safely?” </p><p>“Yep,” Crowley said, sticking his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, there was… I was good.” He paused, then took a chance. “My boss told me Ligur’s still in hospital, apparently. He’s got a concussion.” </p><p>“Oh, dear,” Aziraphale said, hanging the coat up on a coatrack by the door. “I hope he recovers. And that he’s learned his lesson, though I suppose that those types rarely do.” </p><p>“Got a lot of experience with that?” Crowley asked, leaning against one of the side tables and raising an eyebrow. </p><p>Aziraphale blushed. “Not– not really. I just. I do think that… well, it takes a certain sort to attack someone with a knife in a dark alley, doesn’t it?” </p><p>The laugh escaped before Crowley could stop it. “You’re not wrong about that, angel.” </p><p>Aziraphale’s blush deepened as he smiled. </p><p>Crowley felt a sudden rush of bravery overwhelm him, and before he could stop himself, he said, “It’s about one. D’you… wanna grab some lunch?” </p><p>Instantly, Aziraphale’s face fell. “Oh. Oh, oh, I– I’m so sorry, I– I’m actually– I have a boyfriend–” </p><p><i>Shit. Fuck. Of course he does. He’s perfect, of </i>course<i> he’s taken.</i> “That– that’s alright, I didn’t– I didn’t mean as a date or anything. Just– just friends. Pay you back, y’know? I still owe you one for the– for the assist. I’ll pay.” </p><p>Aziraphale stared at him for a long moment, and Crowley began cursing himself internally. Bless it, how did he manage to fuck this up so quickly, why did he– </p><p>“All right,” Aziraphale said. </p><p>Crowley blinked. “Wait. Really?” </p><p>“I mean, you don’t have to pay me back,” said Aziraphale quickly. “I was happy to help, I hate seeing people hurt– but. If you’d like to go for lunch, as friends, I could– could probably close up for an hour or so.” </p><p>Relieve crashed over Crowley like a wave on the beach, and he grinned. “Awesome. Well. Name the place, angel.” </p><p>“Oh, no, if you’re to pay I wouldn’t want–“ Aziraphale demurred, bustling around the register, which honestly looked so old-fashioned that Crowley was stunned it functioned. </p><p>“Don’t worry about money, that’s not a problem. Where would you like to go?” </p><p>Aziraphale pursed his lips for a moment, then asked, “How would you feel about sushi?” </p><p>Crowley wasn’t the biggest fan of sushi. He’d eat it, but he’d never really understood the appeal. “Sounds perfect, angel.” </p><p>Aziraphale blushed again and beamed at Crowley, who immediately decided that he’d just have to call Aziraphale “angel” as often as possible, if that was the sort of reaction he got when he did. </p><p>Crowley led the way to the Bentley, which Aziraphale cooed over briefly– “restored her myself,” Crowley had boasted, “she’s round about ninety years old and runs like new,” and Aziraphale had complimented his work so thoroughly that Crowley had started blushing himself– and Aziraphale provided the directions to his favourite sushi restaurant, which was only a short ride from the bookshop. </p><p>When they got there, Crowley let Aziraphale order for the both of them, and focused instead on finding out as much about this man as possible. He was shockingly easy to talk to, and as it turned out, they had similar tastes in wine, theatre, and politicians, which made conversation that much easier. As Aziraphale spoke, he gestured with his hands, making him seem somehow brighter, lighter, and when the food came out, he followed every bite with such a genuine sound of appreciation that Crowley would’ve thought he was being sarcastic if not for his face. He was just… so full of life, so full of <i>enjoyment</i>, that Crowley could feel himself enjoying the world more just thanks to his proximity.  </p><p>Aziraphale was also <i>funny</i>, something that was making the rest of the restaurant shoot them dark glares every now and again. </p><p>“It’s a <i>bookshop</i>! Isn’t the <i>point</i> to sell books?” </p><p>“Well, generally speaking, yes, but that was a first-edition Virginia Woolf, and the man wanted to make some sort of horrid arts-and-crafts project out of it!” Aziraphale said, shaking his head. “He was quite determined. I ended up having to tell him there was a gas leak in the shop to get him to leave.” </p><p>Crowley snorted loudly, drawing another series of glares their way, which he ignored resolutely. “God. That… wow. That’s incredible. How do you keep the shop open, with business practices like that?” </p><p>“I do sell <i>some</i> books! And, well, Gabriel– my partner– owns the building,” said Aziraphale. “So I just need to pay utilities and such.” </p><p>“Ah,” Crowley said. “And what does Gabriel do?” </p><p>“He’s a lawyer,” Aziraphale said. “Corporate law, largely. It’s all rather dull. But that’s quite enough about me, I’ve been a terrible conversationalist, I’m sorry. What do you do, to be able to afford a 1933 Bentley?” </p><p>Crowley couldn’t hide his grimace in time. “It’s, um. Complicated.” </p><p>“Complicated?” Aziraphale asked, raising an eyebrow. “How so? That is– I mean, if you don’t mind saying.” </p><p>Crowley bit his lip, thinking. It would probably be best to have out with it now– he’d hate for Aziraphale to think he’d been lied to, or that Crowley was hiding something. “It’s, um. Mostly… mostly, my job is to rub elbows with the sorts of people who have more money than they know what to do with, and then do what I can to make their lives harder.” </p><p>“Hm,” Aziraphale said. “Harder how?” </p><p>“Just… y’know. General mischief. Causing bank errors in customer’s favour, uncovering cheating spouses, tempting a politician to take a bribe or two. Nothing– no one ever gets hurt. I don’t hurt people. Never could.” </p><p>“Well,” Aziraphale said, “so long as no one is getting hurt… I suppose, high society could stand to be brought down a step or two, couldn’t they?” </p><p>Almost despite himself, Crowley felt an incredulous grin spreading across his face. “My thoughts exactly, angel.” </p><p>Aziraphale smiled back, and the conversation moved on. </p><p>The rest of lunch passed in a bit of a blur of surprisingly good sushi and far better conversation, and all too soon, Crowley found himself pulling up in front of the bookshop and walking Aziraphale to the door. </p><p>“Thank you again for all this,” said Aziraphale, beaming up at Crowley as he unlocked the door. </p><p>“Don’t thank me,” Crowley said. “Because then I’m gonna have to thank you, and then you’ll thank me again, and we’ll just keep going back and forth and then where will we be?” </p><p>Aziraphale laughed again, and Crowley knew with a sudden, sinking certainty that he needed to see this man again. </p><p>“I, um,” Crowley said, “I’m usually free around… around this time. If you wanted to… do this again?” </p><p>Aziraphale’s eyes widened. “You– really? I– I was rather afraid I’d bored you half to death, I– yes. I would love to, if–“ </p><p>“You couldn’t bore me, angel,” Crowley said honestly. “Mind if I drop by tomorrow?” </p><p>“I’d like that very much, I think,” Aziraphale said, smiling. </p><p>“Right,” Crowley said, grinning back. “See you, then.” </p><p>And then he strode off, clambering back into the Bentley and driving off before he could do something stupid and ruin the moment. </p><p>God, he couldn’t wait until tomorrow.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Like I said, if you want to see more of this story, please, please, <i>please</i> leave a comment to let me know! I just know this is gonna be a monstrosity, and I’d rather know if there’s any interest before I pour another month into it lol.</p><p>Thank you again for reading!!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Dowling</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Eight months later, Aziraphale and Crowley are in the bookshop rather late, drinking (Gabriel is out of town, and Lucian isn’t meant to check in for another week) when there’s a knock on the door.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you all so, so much for your support!!! I’ve decided to keep moving forwards with this. It’s still not done (sorry) so the update schedule will probably be erratic, but here’s hoping it won’t be too bad!! </p>
<p>Also: there’s a fairly intense abuse scene in this chapter, and we meet Lucifer/Lucian, who’s a fucking creep, and some (very, very brief) homophobic language from Warlock, who didn’t know better and learns quickly, so please take care if that kind of stuff bothers you– it will be more prevalent going forwards. But we will still have fluff, too! </p>
<p>Thank you guys for reading, and I hope you enjoy!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eight months of near-daily lunches and ever more frequent meetings later, Crowley was sitting in the back room of the bookshop, lounging on the sofa there with a glass of wine in his hand. Gabriel was away on a business trip, apparently, and as such Aziraphale had invited Crowley over for a drink or seven, something they’d started doing about six months back whenever Gabriel was out of town. </p>
<p>"My point is," he said, then paused. What had he been saying? </p>
<p>Aziraphale tilted his head, a question in his distractingly blue eyes, and Crowley launched himself unsteadily to his feet. </p>
<p>"My <i>point</i> is," he repeated, "dolphins. Damn big brains. Size of... damn big brains. Gonna train 'em, I think. Dolphins dancing in the Channel, cause all kinds of trouble." </p>
<p>"Are there dolphins in the Channel?" Aziraphale asked, frowning slightly. “Pretty big fish, aren’t they?” </p>
<p>Crowley shrugged. "I can <i>put</i> dolphins in the Channel. Make even more trouble that way, eh?" Then he looked over at Aziraphale, frowning. “Hold on. Dolphins aren’t fish.” </p>
<p>"And how would you get the dolphins?" </p>
<p>"Haven't figured that out yet," Crowley admitted, dropping back down onto the sofa. "You doing anything tomorrow evening?" </p>
<p>"I am not helping you steal dolphins, Crowley," Aziraphale said sternly. </p>
<p>"What? No! Just… there's a new show premiering on the West End. Some pretentious nonsense, you'll love it. I can get tickets, if you like." </p>
<p>Aziraphale sighed. "I can't. Gabriel's coming back tomorrow afternoon." </p>
<p>"Oh." Crowley deflated slightly. "Right." What was he thinking, asking for something like that? Aziraphale was taken. And it wasn’t like Crowley could risk Lucian finding out he was going out on dates. </p>
<p>"His flight won't land until three," Aziraphale said, looking at Crowley almost hopefully. "We can still do lunch?" </p>
<p>Crowley smiled softly. "Lunch sounds good. Matter of fact–" </p>
<p>There was a sound, then, a loud, obnoxious rapping on the bookshop's door. </p>
<p>Aziraphale sat up a little straighter, frowning. "What…?" </p>
<p>The rapping came again, and Aziraphale stood up, making his way out of the back room. Crowley set his wine down, slipped his sunglasses back on, and followed at a slight distance, lurking carefully behind the bookshelves– he didn't particularly want to be seen, just in case, but he also had no interest in leaving Aziraphale alone to deal with whomever was knocking at an obviously-closed shop at– he checked his watch– nearly one in the morning. </p>
<p>Aziraphale opened the door, and then gasped softly. "My goodness, whatever are you doing here?" </p>
<p>Crowley peeked carefully around the edge of his shelf, then blinked, leaning closer. It was… it was a <i>kid</i>, a young kid who couldn't have been more than ten or eleven, with longish, slightly-greasy black hair and their shoulders hunched around their ears. </p>
<p>"I’m sorry," the kid said quickly, their voice quiet and distinctly American. "I don't want to bother you, but I'm lost and you had your lights on and I don't know where else to go." </p>
<p>"Oh, of course!" Aziraphale said, standing aside and ushering the kid in. "Come inside, dear, come in, it's far too cold to be standing out there, and you're hardly in appropriate clothes for the weather, are you? Come in, let's get you warmed right up, there we go." </p>
<p>The kid let themself be bustled inside, then caught sight of Crowley. </p>
<p>"Who're you?" they demanded. </p>
<p>"Could ask you the same thing," Crowley said, emerging from behind his shelf to lean up against it instead. </p>
<p>"Warlock," the kid said. "I'm Warlock Dowling." </p>
<p>"It's very nice to meet you, Warlock," Aziraphale said. "I'm Aziraphale Fell, and this is Anthony Crowley. Don't mind his grumping, he's always like that. Come along, my back room is right this way, I've got some blankets and I can make you tea, or cocoa, or– oh, you're probably too young for coffee, aren't you? Especially so late. Even if you are American." </p>
<p>"M'not American," the kid said mulishly. </p>
<p>Crowley raised an eyebrow at them. </p>
<p>"I'm not!" they protested. "I've lived here my whole life. Not my fault my dad's an ambassador." </p>
<p>"An ambassador?" Aziraphale asked as he bustled around the little kitchenette in the back. "My goodness, you are quite far from home, aren't you? The American estates are three miles from here." </p>
<p>"How'd you get all the way out here, then?" Crowley asked, gently nudging the kid towards the sofa he'd just vacated and pulling a frankly hideous tartan blanket off of Aziraphale's armchair. </p>
<p>"Ran away," Warlock muttered. </p>
<p>"You ran away?" Crowley asked, plopping down in the other armchair and leaning forwards. </p>
<p>"What's it to you?" Warlock demanded. </p>
<p>"Now, there's no need for that," Aziraphale said, coming back into the room with three cups of cocoa and a small plate of biscuits on a tray. "Are you all right, dear? Are you hurt?" </p>
<p>Warlock shook their head, reaching hesitantly for one of the cocoas. "I shouldn't be here." </p>
<p>"No, you probably shouldn't," Crowley said. "But if you had to run off, this was a pretty good place to run to. Aziraphale's good at rescues." </p>
<p>"There does seem to be a bit of a pattern forming," Aziraphale acknowledged, sinking back down into his armchair and taking a sip of the cocoa– Crowley noticed Warlock watching him closely, only drinking from his own mug after he'd seen Aziraphale do it. </p>
<p><i>Clever kid</i>, Crowley thought, grabbing a biscuit and nearly swallowing it whole to try and beat back some of the buzz from the wine. </p>
<p>"Do your guardians know that you're gone?" Aziraphale asked. </p>
<p>Warlock's eyes widened. "Don't call anyone. Please. Please, I didn't–" </p>
<p>"We won't," Crowley said immediately. "Not if you don't want us to. Promise." </p>
<p>"We just want to make sure that you're safe, dear," Aziraphale said. </p>
<p>Warlock stared down into their mug, their hair falling down in front of their face. "They don't know yet. Probably won't notice for a while. It’s not like they ever care what I do." </p>
<p>Crowley frowned. "There's a story there, isn't there?" </p>
<p>Warlock shrugged, not looking up. "They just… don't care. No one cares. It's dumb. Dad has work and Mom just had me to make Dad happy and neither of them know I'm not…" They paused suddenly, wariness clouding their face. </p>
<p>"Not exactly what they expect you to be?" Aziraphale prompted gently. </p>
<p>Warlock hunched their shoulders slightly, muttering directly into their cocoa. "Not a boy." </p>
<p>“Oh, my dear,” said Aziraphale softly. </p>
<p>“Pronouns?” Crowley asked. </p>
<p>Warlock glared up at him. </p>
<p>“I use he/him,” Aziraphale said. “And Crowley does, too, for the most part.” </p>
<p>“But I’m not picky,” Crowley added. “Also use she/her or they/them, sometimes.” </p>
<p>Warlock shifted their glare down into their cocoa. “I… I like they. If that’s…” </p>
<p>“Of course,” said Aziraphale gently. “Now, um… Crowley, can we–?" </p>
<p>"Yeah," Crowley said, standing up. "Stay here, kid, we'll be right back." </p>
<p>"What are you, my nanny?" they demanded. </p>
<p>"Hey, watch the sass," Crowley said, grabbing Aziraphale's wrist and tugging him back out towards the front of the shop. "Don't touch the books, got it?" </p>
<p>Once they were sufficiently far away, he tugged Aziraphale around to face him. "You have to help them." </p>
<p>"Oh, I can hardly take custody of a child, Crowley!" Aziraphale said, worrying his hands together. "If Gabriel knew about any of this…" </p>
<p>"Well, s'not like I can take in a kid," Crowley said. <i>Hard to be a parent when half of London wants you dead</i>. </p>
<p>"They don't… it doesn't sound as though they're in <i>danger</i>," Aziraphale said slowly. </p>
<p>"If they were safe, they wouldn't have gone three miles in the middle of the night to knock on a stranger's door and ask for help," Crowley pointed out. </p>
<p>"Oh, I know," Aziraphale fretted. "But there's not much that either of us can do." </p>
<p>"Can't you, I dunno, book them a hotel or something? Store 'em upstairs?" </p>
<p>"Warlock is a child, not a book!" Aziraphale protested. "I can't <i>store them</i> anywhere, and if I took out the money for a hotel, Gabriel would be... oh, he’d be furious." </p>
<p>Crowley frowned at that. "Why?" </p>
<p>"Oh, he just doesn't like it when I buy things without asking him first," Aziraphale said, waving his hand dismissively. "And a hotel room... well, you can imagine the sorts of conclusions he’d draw. That's hardly relevant, though. Even if one of us did book them a hotel room, I cannot feel comfortable leaving a child alone in London. They can't be older than twelve." </p>
<p>"Eleven, I thought," Crowley said. "What should we do?" </p>
<p>"If we could get more of the story out of them, some understanding of why they ran… you know, children do impulsive things sometimes, it's possible that they could return." </p>
<p>"Possible," Crowley said. "Dunno how likely it is, but…" </p>
<p>"Well, it seems as though our options are to send them home or to send them to the appropriate authorities, and given how reluctant they were to have the anyone called…" Aziraphale said. </p>
<p>Crowley sighed. "Right. Fine. Let's go get more details, hm?" </p>
<p>Aziraphale nodded, and they made their way back into the back room. </p>
<p>"Right," Crowley said, dropping back down into his armchair and noticing as he did that Warlock's shoulders were practically at their ears. "We're not tossing you back out on the street, don't worry. But we do need to know what you want us to do instead, since neither of us can really do much to help right now." </p>
<p>"Dunno," Warlock said, their shoulders dropping almost imperceptibly. "Just… needed to get away for a bit. I don't… they just… they don't <i>get</i> it. And my dad's always on about how I need to be a big, strong man, how if I wanna get a job in the State Department I can't be some wimpy fa–" </p>
<p>"Warlock," Crowley interrupted, "do <i>not</i> say things like that." </p>
<p>Warlock froze, looking up at him. </p>
<p>Crowley gestured to himself and Aziraphale. "We're both queer, and neither of us likes being insulted. Even if we weren't, it's not okay to say that, yeah?" </p>
<p>Warlock just stared at him. </p>
<p>"Think about it this way," Crowley said. "Do you want to be like your dad, or do you want to be <i>better</i>?" </p>
<p>"Fine, <i>Nanny</i>," Warlock muttered, staring down at their mug. </p>
<p>"I would hate for you to go back to somewhere dangerous," said Aziraphale softly. "But being in London on your own at your age is hardly safe, either. So the question is, would you rather return to your parents, or try to find somewhere else to go?" </p>
<p>Warlock gripped their mug a little more tightly, hunching down further. "I don't wanna go to the police." </p>
<p>"All right," Aziraphale said softly. "That's fine. Would you rather go home?" </p>
<p>Warlock nodded slowly. "I just… needed to get away for a little bit." </p>
<p>Aziraphale smiled. "Well, I can understand that entirely, my dear. I'm not normally here in the middle of the night, so that perhaps isn't the best time to drop by, but if you ever find yourself in London during the day, you're more than welcome to come in for some cocoa and a chat, if you like." </p>
<p>Warlock looked up sharply at that. "Really?" </p>
<p>"Really," Aziraphale said. </p>
<p>"I'm here for lunch often as not," Crowley said. "But if you’d rather avoid me I’m nearly always gone by three." </p>
<p>Warlock’s eyes were wide. "Can I… is it really okay if I come back?" </p>
<p>"So long as you keep yourself safe while doing so, of course it is," Aziraphale said. </p>
<p>"I can call you a car to get back to your place so you don't have to walk," Crowley offered, pulling his phone out. "Sound good?" </p>
<p>Warlock nodded, still looking utterly shell-shocked, and Crowley called a ride. </p>
<p>"Right," he said, standing up once more and leading Warlock over to the door. "The car's on its– oh, wait, here it is. Stay safe, yeah? Like the angel said, if you need us, we'll be here. Got it?" </p>
<p>"Angel?" Warlock asked. </p>
<p>Crowley smiled. "He's my guardian angel, too. Think he's got a new charge." </p>
<p>"Thanks, Nanny," Warlock said, and somehow, it was missing the venom of the first few times. Then they headed out into the street, and climbed into the cab Crowley had called. </p>
<p>Crowley watched them drive off, then made his way back into the back room, snagging a biscuit and leaning up against one of the bookshelves. </p>
<p>"That was quite kind of you," Aziraphale said. "You were good with them." </p>
<p>"Shut up," Crowley said, rolling his eyes. "Kind <i>and</i> good with kids? Are you <i>trying</i> to ruin my reputation, angel?" </p>
<p>Aziraphale laughed softly, then sighed. "I, um. I hate to kick you out, especially after all of that, but…" </p>
<p>"Nah, nah, I get it," Crowley said, heaving a sigh and levering himself back up. "You've got to work tomorrow, and I should probably try and get something done, too, shouldn't I?" </p>
<p>"So long as you’re not stealing dolphins, I believe you should," Aziraphale said, grinning, and Crowley's stupid heart did its stupid, complicated little wiggle at the sight. </p>
<p>"No dolphins will be harmed in the making of my pranks," said Crowley. "Promise. Even if it would be hilarious to put a whole load of them in the Channel and train them to dance to jazz." </p>
<p>Aziraphale just laughed again, carrying the tray back into the kitchenette. </p>
<p>Crowley made his way home on foot– it wasn't a long walk, and he had known better than to bring his car to wine night with Aziraphale. </p>
<p>When Crowley got to his flat, though, the door was open, and the lights inside were on. </p>
<p>“Shit,” he hissed, darting inside and locking the door back up behind him before calling out, “Hey, Lucian. To what do I owe the honour?” </p>
<p>“Good job on the Barclay’s job,” Lucian said. His voice was coming from the direction of the kitchen. </p>
<p>Crowley followed it, finding the man himself standing there, leaned up against a countertop– he was tall and thin, with a long face, frankly absurd cheekbones, and dark, curly hair. </p>
<p>“Y-yeah, well, um,” Crowley said, shrugging. “I, um. I do my best. What– can I ask why you’re here?” </p>
<p>Lucian grinned. “I just wanted to drop by and say congratulations.” </p>
<p><i>Bullshit</i>. “I mean, well, y’know. Just doing my job.” </p>
<p>“Hm. Well. It was impressive. Very impressive.” Lucian pushed himself up off of the counter and walked slowly towards Crowley. “So impressive that people are talking. Looking for someone to blame.” </p>
<p><i>Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit!</i> “And you want eyes off you again?” </p>
<p>Lucian’s grin widened. “Clever, aren’t you?” </p>
<p>“Do you have someone in mind?” Crowley asked, leaning up against the doorframe and sticking his hands in his pockets. </p>
<p>“There’s always the Archangels.” </p>
<p>Crowley barely managed to suppress a shudder. The Archangels, led by lawyers named Gabriel Wright and Michael Kemp, were Lucian’s biggest rivals, and famous for their brutality. One of their operatives had apparently given Hastur and Ligur a run for their money a few months back, something that Crowley wasn’t planning to let them forget about any time soon. Apparently, they moved in the same circles that Crowley haunted, and though they were still less effective than he was, he didn’t much fancy having to take them on head-on, either. </p>
<p>“Um. I’ll keep them in mind,” Crowley said. “Anyone else? Y’know, options, and all that.” </p>
<p>Lucian arched an eyebrow. “Well. You know what works. That American diplomat, Dowling, is a little bit too clean to be truly honest.” </p>
<p><i>Fuck. Dowling? He can’t mean Warlock’s dad, can he?</i> “Right. Got it. Um. Was there anything else you needed?” </p>
<p>“Need? No, not exactly,” said Lucian, taking another step forwards, until he was definitely in Crowley’s personal space. “You’ve been working so hard, darling. You should take a break.” </p>
<p>“I’m good,” Crowley said, moving carefully around Lucian to get into the kitchen. “Do you want anything for the road? I’d hate to keep you.” </p>
<p>He felt Lucian’s eyes on him, but he didn’t turn around, instead doing his best to pretend he was making coffee without having to actually turn the kettle on. </p>
<p>“You were out late,” said Lucian eventually. “I almost thought you’d spend the night somewhere else.” </p>
<p>“Ngk. Well. Contact invited me out for drinks,” Crowley said. “Couldn’t say no, could I?” He wasn’t even lying. Aziraphale was technically a contact. Just not in the way Lucian would probably assume. “Now, um. I hate to ask you to leave, but I’m dead tired, and if I’m gonna get started on the new job tomorrow I should probably get some sleep tonight.” </p>
<p>There was silence, and Crowley held his breath, clutching a coffee mug in his hand and praying that Lucian would take his excuse. </p>
<p>After a long moment, Lucian said, “Very well. I’ll see you in two weeks for a progress check, then.” </p>
<p>Crowley’s breath hissed out slowly. <i>Oh, thank fuck</i>. “Yup. Great. See you. Bye.” </p>
<p>He waited until he heard the click of his front door closing before he slumped against the counter, the adrenaline leaving him all at once. </p>
<p>“Fuck, that was close,” he breathed, dragging himself upright just long enough to make his way to the bedroom and collapse into bed. </p>
<p>Dowling. That’s definitely what Warlock had said their name was. And they’d mentioned they were the ambassador’s kid. And, from the sound of it, said ambassador was exactly the kind of asshole that Crowley hated the most. </p>
<p>Crowley frowned. He’d need to do something fairly dramatic, fairly soon, just to make sure to keep Lucian’s name and organization out of the press, but if he pulled that off… well. Maybe he’d be able to have some fun with this assignment, after all. </p>
<p>###</p>
<p>Crowley came back to the shop the next day for lunch as usual, but this time, when he got there, Aziraphale wasn’t alone inside. Standing beside him was a tall, broad man in a pale grey suit. His hair was dark and perfectly coiffed, and he looked almost sculpted. </p>
<p>“Hey,” Crowley called as he walked in. “Um. Are you–“ </p>
<p>Then the man turned around, and Crowley saw his violet eyes, and it took every ounce of self-control that he had not to react visibly. </p>
<p>It was Gabriel fucking Wright. </p>
<p>“Oh! Um. Gabriel, this is Cr– Anthony. Anthony, this is my– my partner, Gabriel. I’ve told you about him, yes? Um. Anthony was just s-stopping by to help with the inventory.” </p>
<p>“Y-yeah,” Crowley said, offering his hand to Gabriel, praying desperately that the man wouldn’t recognise him– he tended to hide in the shadows. “I, um, I can come back at another time, if this is bad?” </p>
<p>“Yeah, I think that’d be best,” said Gabriel, looking Crowley up and down. There was no apparent recognition in his genuinely unsettling eyes, thank fuck. </p>
<p>“Should I drop by later today, then?” Crowley asked, glancing over at Aziraphale and hoping desperately that the general <i>what the fuck</i> of this situation came through. </p>
<p>Gabriel, however, was the one who responded. “No, I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you. Aziraphale can handle the inventory on his own, can’t you, sunshine?” </p>
<p>“I– yes, Gabriel,” Aziraphale said softly. </p>
<p>Crowley was having a harder and harder time hiding his reactions. “Um. Right, then. I’ll just…” He gestured to the door with his thumb, then walked out, glancing over his shoulder as surreptitiously as he could the whole way. </p>
<p>Outside, on the pavement, he ran– almost literally– into Warlock. </p>
<p>“Nanny!” the kid cried, grinning up at him. “Did I make it in time to see Aziraphale?” </p>
<p>“Ah… um. Seems like… seems like Aziraphale has something else going on today,” Crowley said, gently nudging Warlock away from the shop. “Um. Let’s just… I‘d hate to keep you–“ </p>
<p>“I don’t wanna go back yet,” Warlock said immediately, grabbing onto Crowley’s hand. “Can we get lunch or something? Even if Aziraphale isn’t coming. Please?” </p>
<p>Crowley stared down at the kid for a long moment. <i>How bad is your family, that you’re running off to lunch with two strangers just to avoid them?</i> </p>
<p>“Sure thing, kid,” he said. It may have been a shitty situation, but, well, Crowley had been in plenty of those himself, and he’d much rather that Warlock come to him and Aziraphale instead of wandering around London on their own. “Pick the place.” </p>
<p>Warlock grinned, then led them to a café not too far from the bookshop, chattering the whole way there, talking about video games and bouncy houses and their tutors and the gardener who worked on their family’s estate. </p>
<p>“But Brother Francis is leaving next week, and I don’t know who I’m gonna talk to anymore,” they grumbled, slouching back in their seat. </p>
<p>“What about your friends?” Crowley asked as the waiter set the food down. </p>
<p>“I, um. I don’t have a whole lot of those,” said Warlock. “Or, I mean, I have <i>friends</i>, but I don’t like any of them. I just have to hang out with them because my mom says so.” </p>
<p>Crowley hissed in sympathy. “That sucks.” </p>
<p>“It’s so dumb!” Warlock said, getting into it now, chewing ferociously on a chip as they spoke. “My mom says that I have to be good and do everything Dad says, but Dad doesn’t even follow the rules! He just wants everything to <i>look</i> perfect, he doesn’t care how anything actually is.” </p>
<p>Crowley frowned, leaning forwards slightly, Lucian’s words from last night echoing in his head almost against his will. <i>Dowling is too clean to be truly honest.</i> “What sorts of rules is he breaking?” </p>
<p>Warlock stared down at their plate. “I’m not supposed to say.” </p>
<p>“I won’t make you,” Crowley promised. “But, if you wanted to tell me…” </p>
<p>“S’not like there’s anything you can do,” they said. </p>
<p>“Do you want someone to do something?” Crowley asked, carefully. </p>
<p>Warlock glanced up. “He just doesn’t know how it feels. He’s never been scared.” </p>
<p>Crowley bit his lip, then leaned forwards a little further. “If someone <i>could</i> make him scared– nothing that would get him hurt, nothing that would hurt you, just a good, proper scare to put him in his place– would you like that, or not really?” </p>
<p>Warlock’s brow furrowed. “How do we scare him?” </p>
<p><i>We</i>. Crowley bit back a grin. “Well, that depends on what sorts of secrets he’s keeping, doesn’t it?” </p>
<p>“I don’t want him to get mad at me,” Warlock said quietly. “Normally he doesn’t care, but when he gets angry…” </p>
<p>“I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do,” Crowley said. “Never. I promise. And I wouldn’t tell anyone something you didn’t want me to. But if you wanted to scare him… I can promise you that he’d never find out it was you.” </p>
<p>Warlock’s eyes widened, and then their face split into a grin. “You know, my dad has a whole lot of secrets.” </p>
<p>### </p>
<p>Aziraphale watched Gabriel watching Crowley leave, his heart in his throat and his stomach having dropped to somewhere around the third circle of Hell. Oh, Lord. Maybe Gabriel wouldn’t recognise him. Maybe they’d be all right. Maybe he wouldn’t– </p>
<p>Gabriel turned back around, fury flaming in his eyes, and Aziraphale’s desperate hopes shattered. </p>
<p>“Gabriel–” he began, raising his hands placatingly. </p>
<p>“Aziraphale. Do you know who that <i>is</i>?” Gabriel hissed, taking a step closer and grabbing Aziraphale’s arm in a grip so tight it almost hurt. </p>
<p>“He was just…” Aziraphale began weakly. </p>
<p>“That is Anthony J. Crowley! He works for <i>Lucian Sterling</i>, Aziraphale!” He stepped even closer, crowding Aziraphale against one of the bookshelves. “But you knew that already, didn’t you? You’ve known it since you met him. When you gave him your coat. How long have you been <i>lying</i> to me? Fraternising with the <i>opposition</i>?” </p>
<p>“I– I haven’t!” Aziraphale said desperately, gripping the bookshelf behind him with his free arm as though it could offer some measure of protection. “I haven’t been f-fraternising, Gabriel, Crowley is just a <i>friend</i>–” </p>
<p>“Yeah, right,” Gabriel scoffed, his grip tightening, twisting Aziraphale’s arm slightly. “I’m not an idiot, Aziraphale. He’s why you’ve been spending so much money on restaurants recently, isn’t he?” </p>
<p>“Gabriel–“ Aziraphale pleaded. </p>
<p>“How long has this little affair of yours being going on, hm? Eight months? Longer?” </p>
<p>“Gabriel, I promise, I haven’t– I’m sorry–“ </p>
<p>“I gave you <i>everything</i> you have!” Gabriel yelled, his fist flying, striking the wood just beside Aziraphale’s head, and Aziraphale cried out, flinching away. “And <i>this</i> is how you repay me?” </p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale breathed, “I’m sorry, Gabriel, I’m sorry–“ </p>
<p>“Sorry just doesn’t cut it,” Gabriel said, using his grip on Aziraphale’s arm to shove him back against the bookshelf. “You lying little <i>whore</i>.” </p>
<p>“I haven’t– I would <i>never</i>– Gabriel, <i>please</i>–“ </p>
<p>“You know he’s just trying to fuck you, right? That’s what he does. He <i>ruins</i> people. He’s just trying to turn you against me.” </p>
<p>“I’m sorry, I’m sorry–“ </p>
<p>Gabriel’s left hand vanished from Aziraphale’s arm, and his right rose up, and Aziraphale flinched– </p>
<p>As it landed, gentle and soft and warm, on his cheek, cupping his face almost tenderly. </p>
<p>“I’m just worried,” said Gabriel. “I don’t want anyone to hurt you.” </p>
<p>Aziraphale opened his eyes– when had he closed them?– to see Gabriel staring down at him, his eyes narrowed with… concern? Aziraphale wasn’t sure. </p>
<p>“I, um. I’m all right,” Aziraphale said, and it was as much a reassurance for himself as for Gabriel. </p>
<p>“Good,” said Gabriel, his thumb stroking Aziraphale’s cheek gently. “But, you know, I’m still worried. And I definitely don’t think you should be talking to anyone who works for <i>Lucian</i>.” </p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale breathed. </p>
<p>“You didn’t know any better,” said Gabriel, his voice growing more gentle with every word. “But that’s alright. That’s why I’m here, sunshine. Come here.” He stepped back and held his arms out, and Aziraphale went to him, let himself be folded up in Gabriel’s embrace, clinging to his jacket almost desperately. </p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” he said again, wrestling back some desperate, pitiful sort of noise. </p>
<p>“Shh,” Gabriel murmured, kissing the top of Aziraphale’s head and holding him close. “You’re okay. C’mon, sunshine, let’s head home, take the rest of the day off.” </p>
<p>Aziraphale nodded, stepping back out of Gabriel’s embrace and letting himself be led to the car. As they drove, a thought occurred to him, making him shiver in his seat. </p>
<p><i>Thank goodness Crowley didn’t call me “angel”.</i> </p>
<p>### </p>
<p>After making sure that Warlock had a ride back home, Crowley very nearly sprinted back to the bookshop, only to find that it was closed and shuttered and apparently empty. </p>
<p>He climbed back into the Bentley and leaned his forehead against the steering wheel, sucking in a deep breath. </p>
<p>Gabriel fucking Wright. Leader of the Archangels. That was who his bloody best friend was dating. </p>
<p>Of course. Of course! Crowley was almost unsurprised. Why wouldn’t something like this happen? </p>
<p>Crowley knew that the Archangels thought of him as a nuisance, knew that it was only Lucian’s protection that kept them from trying anything against him. Was this their way of trying to get to him despite that? </p>
<p>But then, if that were the case, why did Aziraphale step in and help him that first night? He hadn’t even known Crowley’s name then, and he’d risked getting stabbed in order to fight off Hastur and Ligur. Besides which, Crowley had seen Aziraphale trying to lie before, mostly to any customers who dared to pick up one of his first editions. It was <i>not</i> convincing. Crowley couldn’t imagine Aziraphale being capable of the sort of long con that a job like this would require. </p>
<p>So it really was a coincidence, then, wasn’t it? Crowley’s best friend– his only friend– was dating his boss’s biggest rival. And now said rival had seen him, dropping in to take his boyfriend out for lunch. </p>
<p>What now? </p>
<p>Crowley didn’t want to stop seeing Aziraphale. That was the absolute last thing he wanted. But if Gabriel knew… or worse, if Lucian found out… </p>
<p>Lucian couldn’t find out about Aziraphale. If he knew that there existed such an easy way to get leverage over both Crowley and Gabriel fucking Wright at the same time, Aziraphale would never be safe. So he could never find out. That shouldn’t be too difficult– Crowley had hidden this friendship for eight months already, and it wasn’t like Lucian was keeping an eye on his day-to-day goings-on. So long as he kept delivering results, Lucian never needed to know something was amiss. </p>
<p>Of course, even if Lucian didn’t try anything, there was still Gabriel to worry about. Crowley knew almost nothing about him– for all his influence, he and Michael kept a tight lid on their operations, and Crowley had no idea what to expect. An actual attempt to silence him seemed unlikely– it was common knowledge that Crowley was under Lucian’s protection, no one actually tried anything very frequently– but that was hardly the only thing Gabriel could do. A man in his position, with as much power and money as he had… </p>
<p>How had someone like Aziraphale ended up with someone like Gabriel, anyways? How long had they known each other? How could Aziraphale be okay with the things that the Archangels did? </p>
<p>Did he even <i>know</i>? </p>
<p>He had to know. Aziraphale was wildly clever. There was no way he didn’t know what sort of business his boyfriend got up to. </p>
<p>Aziraphale never talked about Gabriel. All Crowley had known about him, before today, was his first name, that he worked as a lawyer, that they lived together, and that one of his coworkers gave Aziraphale the creeps. He didn’t know how long they’d been together, how they’d met, anything. On the few occasions that Aziraphale’s relationship had come up, Crowley had changed the subject as quickly as he could, and Aziraphale had always let him. </p>
<p>God. Seeing them earlier… Gabriel was attractive, that was for sure. Not nearly so much so as Aziraphale– he was a little <i>too</i> sculpted, like he was trying a bit too hard– but Crowley could see where it came from. It just… it didn’t really make sense. Crowley had thought… Crowley had hoped… </p>
<p><i>Idiot</i>, Crowley scolded himself. <i>You weren’t his type before you knew who he was dating. He knows what you do already– nothing Gabriel might tell him will be news. This doesn’t change anything. He is your best friend, don’t you dare throw that away because you’re fucking</i> jealous. </p>
<p>Crowley straightened up and started the Bentley, tearing off towards his flat. He had to come up with a plan for what to do with Thaddeus Dowling, and how to get Warlock out of there safely– everything the kid said reminded Crowley of his parents, which was <i>not</i> a good sign. And then… </p>
<p>He’d stop by for lunch tomorrow. He and Aziraphale would talk. And then… well. He’d see what happened.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Comments fuel my writing, please let me know what you thought!!! Thank you so much for reading!!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Dinner Party</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Aziraphale and Crowley talk. Gabriel has an idea.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter features a bunch more of Gabriel being a manipulative, abusive douche, and also some of Lucian doing the same, so please take care of yourself if that kind of stuff might be bad for you. There is also some sweetness, so it’s not all bad!! </p><p>I hope you guys enjoy!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Aziraphale was doing his very best to avoid dusting when the bell above the door rang. </p><p>“I’ll be with you in just a moment!” he called, declaring the job done and putting the duster away. </p><p>Then he heard Crowley’s voice call “It’s me,” and his mind froze. </p><p>“O-oh,” he said, straightening up and making his way to the front of the shop. “Crowley. I… I didn’t think you’d be coming by today.” </p><p>“Why wouldn’t I?” Crowley asked, raising one eyebrow. </p><p>Aziraphale felt an embarrassed heat rising in his cheeks. Of course, Crowley hadn’t seen his and Gabriel’s little spat. There was a good chance he didn’t even know who Gabriel was. “W-well. I, um. I suppose– n-no reason.” </p><p>Gabriel’s words from last night echoed in Aziraphale’s mind. <i>”Don’t talk to him anymore, sunshine. He’s just using you, either to get in your pants or to try and manipulate me– or both. It’ll be safer for everyone if you stay away.”</i> </p><p>Crowley’s face fell, obvious even behind the sunglasses. “Is this– this is about Gabriel, isn’t it?” </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale said immediately, gripping the sales counter behind him as tightly as he could. </p><p>“No, don’t be,” Crowley said, waving his hand. “I just… okay. Yeah. Can we talk about it, angel?” </p><p>“Why do you call me that?” Aziraphale asked quietly, gripping the counter a little more tightly and feeling the wood creak under his hands. </p><p>Crowley’s face went red. “Because you saved me. Because– because when I first saw you, the way the light hit your hair made it look like a halo. Because you’ve been nothing but kind and gentle and good to everyone, to <i>me</i>, even though you never had to.” He bit his lip, then lifted his glasses, and his gaze was soft and earnest. “I can stop, if you want.” </p><p>Aziraphale shook his head. “No, you– I just– I’m sorry, I didn’t– didn’t get much sleep last night. Everything’s a bit– I’m sorry.” </p><p>“Don’t be,” Crowley repeated. “Are you alright?” </p><p>“Yes,” Aziraphale said, and it wasn’t a lie. He was just… tired. Gabriel had spent the whole of last night alternately berating or in bed with him, and those sorts of days tended to leave Aziraphale a little… fuzzy, afterwards. It was nothing he hadn’t dealt with before. He was fine. </p><p>Crowley frowned. “You sure?” </p><p>Aziraphale nodded, then sighed. “I just… why are you– why do you spend so much time with me? Why–“ </p><p>“Because we– we’re friends,” said Crowley. “I’m not– I swear, I didn’t even know– I had no idea that Gabriel Wright was your boyfriend.” </p><p>Aziraphale blinked. He… he had known that. He’d taken steps to ensure that Crowley never found out who he was dating, for this exact reason. And yet… and yet, Gabriel had been so sure… </p><p>“Ang-Aziraphale?” Crowley asked, taking a half a step closer. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale said again, shaking himself out of his stupor. “I’m sorry, Crowley.” </p><p>“Don’t be sorry,” Crowley said. “I’m just… how did that happen? You– you <i>do</i> know… what he does?” </p><p>Aziraphale thought of dinners served to the Archangels, of nights spent avoiding Gabriel’s fury, of Mr. Sandalphon stopping by in the early hours of the morning with blood on his cuffs and a too-wide smile and a simple message of <i>it’s done</i>, and nodded. “I… yes. I do.” </p><p>“Then… hold on, you’re not–“ Crowley began. </p><p>Aziraphale almost laughed despite himself. “No. No, I’m not one of his Archangels. Gabriel would never consider letting me get involved, even if I wanted to, which I quite certainly do not.” </p><p>“Then <i>how</i>– how did someone like you end up with <i>him</i>?” </p><p>This time, Aziraphale did laugh, though it was high and forced. “I… I know it doesn’t make much sense. He could have… well, <i>anyone</i>, and– and I’m just–“ </p><p>“Brilliant and funny and way too good a person to be going out with a <i>crime lord</i>,” Crowley said. </p><p>Aziraphale felt a flush creeping up his cheeks. “I– I’m not all that, really. I just– we– he was my commanding officer. Back– back in Afghanistan. He– I was injured, in a raid, and medically discharged, and sent back... I had… I had <i>nothing</i> left, when I got to London, and Gabriel… when he returned, he found me, and… he was so kind, then. He let me stay with him, he bought me the bookshop, he– I wouldn’t be here without him. He gave me <i>everything</i>.” </p><p>Crowley was staring at him, and Aziraphale felt his blush deepening. </p><p>“How long, then?” Crowley asked softly. “How– how long have you–?” </p><p>“Fifteen years,” Aziraphale said. The anniversary of when Gabriel had found him, homeless and desperate, had just passed a few weeks ago. They hadn’t done anything for it– they never did– but Aziraphale remembered, all the same. “I’ve been with him for fifteen years. But I’ve known him almost twenty.” </p><p>Crowley’s breath hissed out quietly. “Shit. That’s… longer than I thought.” </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale said. </p><p>Crowley shook his head. “You haven’t done anything wrong.” </p><p>Aziraphale bit his lip. “What… what about you, then?” </p><p>Crowley frowned. “Me?” </p><p>“How did… how does someone as kind as you come to work for London’s most infamous mob boss?” </p><p>Crowley winced. “M’not <i>kind</i>.” </p><p>That was familiar territory for them, that argument. It was comfortable. Safe. An easy out. </p><p>Aziraphale ignored it. “How did it happen?” </p><p>Crowley stuffed his hands into his pockets, glaring down at the floor, and Aziraphale could tell he was itching to put his glasses back on. “I, um. I got kicked out. When I was sixteen. For… y’know.” </p><p>Aziraphale did. It had never happened to him, but then, his parents had died shortly after his deployment, and long before he’d dared to even consider coming out. If they had known… well, there was a reason he had jumped on a career path that took him as far from home as possible. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” he said softly. </p><p>“Don’t be,” Crowley said, shaking his head. “It just… y’know, I was young. I started doing odd jobs, whatever I could get to make money. And then I met Lucian, and he… he’d taken in some other kids like me, before. Beez, and Dagon… and I thought… it wasn’t <i>safe</i>, I knew it wasn’t, but it paid well, and put a roof over my head, and it… I mean, it was better than sleeping under bridges or in shelters.” </p><p>Aziraphale nodded. That, too, he understood all too well. “I’m–“ </p><p>“If you say you’re sorry again, I’m leaving,” Crowley threatened. </p><p>Aziraphale smiled, almost despite himself. “Maybe I ought to, then. I’m not really meant to be talking to you.” </p><p>Crowley’s eyes narrowed. “Not supposed to? Who says, Gabriel?” </p><p>“You are technically the opposition.” </p><p>“That doesn’t mean shit, angel, you know that as well as I do.” </p><p>“It doesn’t mean nothing,” Aziraphale said. “If Gabriel found out that you’d come back around, he’d be <i>furious</i>, and not just with me. And that’s not even to mention what Lucian could do to you if he found out we were friends...” </p><p>“Nobody ever has to know,” Crowley said, taking another step forwards and holding out his hand. “We’ll be careful. But… it’s worth the risk, being your friend. You’re worth the risk.” </p><p>Aziraphale felt himself blushing again. He’d never… the way Crowley was looking at him… </p><p>He shouldn’t. He couldn’t. It was far too dangerous. If Crowley was hurt because of Aziraphale, he’d never forgive himself. </p><p>But with him right there, holding out his hand, his gorgeous golden eyes so open and earnest… </p><p>Aziraphale reached out and took Crowley’s hand. “Alright. Yes. I… yes. Can I… can I tempt you to some lunch?” </p><p>Crowley’s face split into a beaming grin, and Aziraphale knew at once that it was worth it, it was all worth it, if it made Crowley smile like that. </p><p>“Supposed to be my job, isn’t it?” Crowley said, leading Aziraphale outside to the Bentley without letting up his grip on Aziraphale’s hand. “Temptation.” </p><p>“Well, perhaps you’re rubbing off on me,” said Aziraphale. </p><p>“Oh, shit. Maybe we need to rethink this, then.” </p><p>“Don’t you dare.” </p><p>That pulled another grin from Crowley, and as Aziraphale settled back into the passenger seat of the Bentley, gripping the door handle in preparation for whatever nonsense Crowley was about to pull, he couldn’t stop a matching smile from blooming across his own face, and, as always when he was with Crowley, Gabriel faded once more to the back of his mind. </p><p>### </p><p>That night, when Crowley got back to his flat after an extremely long and exceedingly frustrating meeting with one of Lucian’s favourite journalists, he found that his front door was unlocked again. </p><p>“Y’know, most people at least ask before inviting themselves over,” Crowley grumbled, kicking off his shoes before making his way to the kitchen once again. </p><p>Lucian was standing there, his arms folded. “Everything you have, you have because of me. I can do what I like with it.” </p><p>Crowley didn’t bother responding to that. “What’s up?” </p><p>“Do you have any updates for me, Anthony?” </p><p>Crowley bit back a shudder of revulsion at the sound of his first name and nodded instead. “Just finished talking to Carmine about that Dowling guy. Turns out, he’s got more secrets than he knows what to do with, and I’m thinking some of them might show up in the <i>Weekly</i> pretty soon.” </p><p>“Good,” said Lucian. He pushed himself up off the counter, and stalked closer to Crowley. “And what about the… other things?” </p><p>“Other thingss?” Crowley asked, hating himself for the lisp that slipped out. “What–?” </p><p>“The Archangels,” said Lucian. “Do you have any information on them?” </p><p>Crowley gulped, shoving the image of Aziraphale out of his head. “Um. No. Not– not really. You know how they are, s’hard as hell to get anything on ‘em.” </p><p>Lucian nodded slowly, his gaze roving over Crowley’s face, down his body. “You know I’m not a patient man.” </p><p>“Y-yeah,” Crowley said, his breath hitching slightly in his throat. </p><p>“Hm.” Lucian looked him over once more, then stepped back. “Keep up the push on Dowling. And give me anything you can about the Archangels. Am I understood?” </p><p>“Yup,” said Crowley, nodding. “Perfectly. Hundred percent. Got it.” </p><p>Lucian nodded as well, just once, and then he was gone, the front door clicking shut behind him. </p><p>“Shit,” Crowley breathed, stumbling through the kitchen to pour himself a glass of the strongest alcohol he could find. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, <i>shit</i>!” </p><p>He couldn’t do anything to put Aziraphale in danger. If Aziraphale was hurt because of him, he’d never forgive himself. And he’d just promised the man earlier today that nothing needed to change, that no one would find out. If he broke that promise now… </p><p>That whole conversation came back to him in a wave, and he remembered how <i>scared</i> Aziraphale had looked when he’d walked into the shop, how quiet his voice had been when he’d talked about how he and Gabriel had ended up together. </p><p>How he’d seemed to be just as afraid of Gabriel as Crowley was of Lucian. </p><p>Something twisted in Crowley’s stomach, and he gulped straight from whatever bottle he’d grabbed– whiskey, he realised, as it was already halfway down his throat. He didn’t like the way Aziraphale had acted earlier, not one bit. And how he’d never mentioned how he actually <i>felt</i> about Gabriel. Just that Gabriel had taken care of him, like he <i>owed</i> the man. </p><p>It had been eerily similar to Crowley’s own story, to how he’d fallen in with Lucian, and, honestly? Crowley didn’t like it one bit. </p><p>He’d have to try and get some more information. Not for bloody Lucian– if he had his way, Lucian would never find out that Aziraphale existed, and everyone would be better off for it– but for Aziraphale. It just… Aziraphale seemed like he was okay, but it would make Crowley feel better to confirm it. </p><p>And if Aziraphale wasn’t okay… </p><p>Well. He’d cross that bridge when he got to it. If he got to it. For all he knew, one of London’s biggest crime lords was a perfectly wonderful and considerate boyfriend. </p><p>Crowley took another swing of whiskey, groaned loudly, and then slumped to his office. Clearly, he had work to do. </p><p>### </p><p>The next several weeks passed much as the preceding ones had, which had rather contradictory effects on Aziraphale’s peace of mind. On the one hand, seeing Crowley nearly every day meant that Aziraphale could ensure that Crowley was safe, and with Warlock dropping in at least once a week, Aziraphale was able to keep an eye on both of them. </p><p>On the other hand, Gabriel had also started coming by the bookshop more and more often, meaning that the only space in Aziraphale’s life without Gabriel quite suddenly… wasn’t. </p><p>“You should close up early today, sunshine,” Gabriel said one day, about four and a half weeks after he’d run into Crowley. “The rest of the firm is coming for dinner tonight, and I know how slow you can be at cooking and all that stuff.” </p><p>“The kinds of meals you all tend to enjoy just take time to make, dear,” Aziraphale said, setting down the box of books he was reshelving. “When will they be over?” </p><p>“Soon enough that you should close up,” Gabriel said. “C’mon, let’s go.” </p><p>“All right, all right,” Aziraphale sighed. Crowley and Warlock had left a little over an hour ago, which meant that they wouldn’t be coming by later to find the shop closed. That was good. Aziraphale knew full well that he was one of the only constants in both of their lives, and he always hated when he couldn’t be there for them. </p><p>And, of course, he knew that Crowley had still been safe as of this morning. Even though those things tended to change quickly, especially in Crowley’s… line of work, it was always nice to have something to hang on to. </p><p>Aziraphale let himself be led out onto the street, bundled into Gabriel’s Lamborghini, and driven back to their flat. As soon as they stepped inside, Gabriel heaved a dramatic sigh of relief. </p><p>“Oh, finally,” he said, shaking his head. “That bookshop is filthy, Aziraphale. You should really clean it up.” </p><p>“I’m quite all right with how things are there, actually,” Aziraphale said softly, taking off his jacket and making his way to the kitchen. If the Archangels were coming over, then they would be expecting Aziraphale to make dinner, which meant he really ought to have started half an hour ago. </p><p>“I’m just trying to take care of you,” Gabriel said, tailing after him and setting up camp on one of the barstools around the island. “I’d hate for you to get sick. I think it’s bad for you, being around so much old paper all the time. Maybe you should spend more time here?” </p><p>Aziraphale glanced around the flat. It was… clean, certainly. Positively pristine. All wide open spaces, white walls and floors and furniture, and not a book in sight. Not… not exactly <i>Aziraphale’s</i> style, but it made Gabriel happy, and that was what really counted. If it would make Gabriel happy for him to spend more time at home… </p><p>But then, he wouldn’t be able to see Crowley and Warlock nearly so often. </p><p>“I’m afraid the bookshop’s bills won’t pay themselves,” Aziraphale said, flashing Gabriel what he hoped was a conciliatory smile before turning back to his bustling. “I really ought to keep my hours consistent.” </p><p>“You don’t need to worry about money, sunshine,” Gabriel said, coming to stand behind Aziraphale, wrapping his arms around his waist. “I hate to think about you sitting in that nasty, dusty, crowded little hell-hole all by yourself, all day long.” </p><p>“I would be alone here, too,” Aziraphale pointed out. </p><p>“Yes, but you’d be <i>here</i>,” Gabriel said. “And you’d be safe.” </p><p>“I’m perfectly safe in the bookshop,” Aziraphale said. “I can take care of myself.” </p><p>Gabriel just scoffed skeptically, and Aziraphale flushed, remembering how Gabriel had found him, how utterly desperate he’d been. </p><p>“R-really, darling,” Aziraphale said softly, struggling to keep his voice from wavering, “I appreciate your concern, but I’m perfectly happy with how things are.” </p><p>Gabriel shifted slightly, tugging Aziraphale closer. “You’re not hiding anything, are you?” </p><p>Aziraphale felt as though his heart had skipped a beat, and he hoped desperately that Gabriel hadn’t felt it, too. “No! No. What– what would I be hiding?” </p><p>“I don’t know,” Gabriel said, pulling Aziraphale around so that they were facing one another. “That’s the problem.” </p><p>“I’m not hiding anything,” Aziraphale said, very deliberately not thinking about Crowley. “Truly.” </p><p>Gabriel scrutinized his face for a moment longer, then leaned in, kissing him deeply. </p><p>Aziraphale kissed him back for a moment, then pulled back. “Dear, if you want dinner to be ready by the time the firm gets here, I really must get started.” </p><p>Gabriel sighed, but backed off, and Aziraphale turned back to the stove.</p><p>Dinner ended up taking slightly less time than Aziraphale had been afraid it would, which meant that he had just finished setting the table when the doorbell rang. </p><p>“Go get that!” Gabriel called from the sitting room. “If it’s anyone important, send them in, then get back to work.” </p><p>Aziraphale nodded, even though his partner couldn’t see, and made his way to the door. </p><p>Michael Kemp, Uriel Lawson, and Elijah Sandalphon stood in the doorway, all of them staring at him with disappointment written across their faces. </p><p>“Ms. Kemp,” Aziraphale said, standing back and holding the door open for them. “Mx. Lawson. Mr. Sandalphon. Gabriel is just through here, and dinner will be ready in a moment.” </p><p>“Aziraphale,” Michael acknowledged as she passed him. Uriel said nothing, following behind their boss.<br/>
Sandalphon looked Aziraphale up and down, then grinned broadly before following after the others. </p><p>Aziraphale closed the door behind them, then leaned up against it for a long moment, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He could hear conversation from the sitting room, conversation that he was most definitely not invited to join, and the food still needed to be plated before he could bring it to the table, and then he’d need to do the dance of trying to determine whether he’d be invited to sit with them today or sent off somewhere to keep out of their way, and even if– </p><p>“Hey, sunshine!” Gabriel called. “You said dinner was ready?” </p><p>“It is, darling,” Aziraphale called back, pushing himself upright and plastering a smile onto his face. “Just let me finish setting the table, and then everything will be set.” </p><p>Gabriel stuck his head out of sitting room and grinned at Aziraphale. “Set yourself a plate, sunshine. Right next to me.” </p><p>“O-oh!” Aziraphale said, blinking. Well. It was nice not to have to guess, he supposed. “All right. Thank you, dear.” </p><p>Gabriel shrugged, then vanished back into the next room. </p><p>Aziraphale glanced over at the table. He had already set himself a place– and, of course, he realised how how terribly presumptuous that had been, but at least he had made the correct choice this time around. It was a relatively rare phenomenon in these situations. </p><p>With another sigh, Aziraphale finished dishing out the food he’d made onto various serving plates, then set said plates out as artfully as he could before making his way over to the sitting room. </p><p>Gabriel, Michael, Uriel, and Sandalphon were all standing in a circle, speaking in low voices, and as Aziraphale approached, they all fell silent, staring at him with inscrutable expressions. </p><p>“Um. D-dinner is ready,” Aziraphale said. “I-if you’d all…” </p><p>“Lead the way!” Gabriel said, grinning, and Aziraphale managed to smile back before turning and doing as he was told. </p><p>He ensured that everyone else was seated, with sufficient food and full glasses of wine, before he joined them, settling in and taking as little as he could bear– he really didn’t feel like dealing with Gabriel’s teasing, even if he hadn’t had anything to eat for more than eight hours and was, frankly, very hungry. </p><p>“This is good,” Gabriel said briefly, gesturing to the steak in between anecdotes from some of the firm’s latest cases, and Aziraphale froze, glancing over at him. </p><p>Gabriel <i>never</i> complemented Aziraphale’s cooking. It was always overdone, or underdone, or not seasoned enough, or seasoned too much, or, or, or… on occasion, Aziraphale would get a nod, or a terse grunt of approval, or– on a good day– a “fine.” Never before, not once in fifteen years, had Gabriel called his cooking <i>good</i>. </p><p>Very briefly, Aziraphale wondered what Crowley would think of his cooking. It was an absurd thought, of course– Crowley was picky when it came to food, and if Aziraphale couldn’t even win the approval of his partner for fifteen years he could hardly hope to impress someone like Crowley. </p><p>Aziraphale shook himself mentally. He shouldn’t think about Crowley, not here, not now. Not with all four of the Archangels gathered around the table. </p><p>“…Devils getting on our nerves,” Michael was saying. “We have to do something about Sterling, Gabriel.” </p><p>“What can he do?” Gabriel scoffed. “He barely even knows who we are. Even if he did try something, he knows that it would be tantamount to declaring war, and there’s no way for him to win that.” </p><p>“He might use that Serpent of his,” said Sandalphon, his voice high and nasally. “I saw him in SoHo the other day.” </p><p>Aziraphale’s blood ran cold. </p><p>“Did you, now?” Gabriel asked, his voice calm and unbothered in a way that made the vice of panic around Aziraphale’s chest tighten even further. </p><p>“Don’t you work in SoHo, Aziraphale?” Uriel asked. </p><p>Aziraphale cleared his throat, forcing his voice to come out as normal as possible, which ended up still being slightly stuttered and squeaky. “I-I do. I have a bookshop.” </p><p>“Perhaps we could use that,” said Uriel. “Keep an eye on the Serpent, use him to watch Sterling.” </p><p>“The bookshop is filthy,” said Gabriel, waving his hand. “Aziraphale was just planning on cleaning it up. Until that gets done, we wouldn’t want anyone using it.” </p><p>“None of us have time to snoop on some low-level lackey,” said Michael, rolling her eyes. </p><p>“Aziraphale could do it,” said Sandalphon, and all eyes at the table snapped onto Aziraphale. </p><p>“Oh!” Aziraphale said, feeling his face heat up as shame and fear rolled through him in waves. “Oh, I– I couldn’t. I don’t– I wouldn’t even know–” </p><p>“Aziraphale is hardly fit to spy on anyone,” said Gabriel, rolling his eyes. “I mean, look at him.” </p><p>Aziraphale felt his flush deepen. </p><p>“Gabriel’s right,” said Michael, turning back to her food. “Stick to homemaking.” </p><p>Aziraphale nodded dumbly, and looked down at his own sparse plate. Though he’d been quite hungry not minutes ago, Aziraphale found that his appetite had quite disappeared. </p><p>The rest of the dinner passed without event– though, of course, there were several more digs thrown Aziraphale’s way. He didn’t bother to respond to them, and he knew that, should he bring them up with Gabriel later, his partner would say that he had no idea what Aziraphale was on about. It was, frankly, better to put up with the occasional commentary on his weight or his occupation or his intelligence than it was to spend the whole evening wondering whether those things had been said at all. </p><p>Finally, though, finally, after a couple of hours and a dessert that Aziraphale did not partake in, Michael, Uriel, and Sandalphon all took their leave. </p><p>And then Aziraphale and Gabriel were alone. </p><p>The second the door clicked shut, Gabriel rounded on Aziraphale, slamming him up against the wall of the foyer, and Aziraphale cried out weakly as his head hit the perfect white paint. </p><p>“I <i>told</i> you not to see him again,” Gabriel growled. </p><p>“I haven’t!” Aziraphale gasped desperately, pushing up against the bar of Gabriel’s forearm against his chest. “Please, Gabriel, I swear to you, I haven’t seen him, I– I–” </p><p>“You fucking liar,” Gabriel said, shoving him back again, and Aziraphale yelped again at the fresh flare of pain from the back of his skull. “That’s all you do, isn’t it? You lie, and you cheat, and you ignore everything I tell you.” </p><p>“No, Gabriel, I promise, <i>please</i>,” Aziraphale said, struggling not to flinch away from Gabriel’s cold, violet eyes. “He– he came by the bookshop again, after, a few days later, but I told him off! I told him to leave! A-and, and if he’s been back since, I haven’t– I haven’t seen him, I promise, I would never–” Gabriel pressed up against him, harder, and Aziraphale gasped– “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, <i>please</i> stop, please, I can’t breathe–” </p><p>Gabriel pressed closer, and Aziraphale let out a weak cry, struggling desperately to take in more than a tiny, gasping breath. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t <i>breathe</i>. </p><p>“I’m sorry–!” Aziraphale gasped again, tears springing to his eyes. </p><p>All at once, Gabriel’s arm vanished, and it took all of Aziraphale’s self-control to keep from collapsing. He stayed where he was, pressed up against the wall, sucking in a shaky breath, as Gabriel stared at him almost contemplatively. </p><p>“Sandalphon did make a good point, earlier,” Gabriel said, his voice quiet. “You have a connection to the Serpent.” </p><p>Aziraphale’s stomach dropped, and he looked up sharply, meeting Gabriel’s eyes again. </p><p>“I don’t–” Aziraphale said softly, “I don’t want to– to get involved in– in <i>that</i> side of–” </p><p>“I think that what you want right now is to not piss me off,” Gabriel said, taking a half a step forwards, towering over Aziraphale. “And the way to do that is to shut your stupid mouth and listen to me.” </p><p>Aziraphale cringed back and nodded, then winced at the throbbing pain mounting in his skull. </p><p>“Right,” Gabriel said. “You’re getting one chance at this, sunshine. Mess it up, and I will <i>not</i> be happy. And there are rules. Meet with him for… I don’t know, whatever it is he wants. Talk to him. Get him to give you secrets about Lucian Sterling’s operation. I’ll let you keep the bookshop, there’s no way I’m ever letting him come over here, but you stay here in the mornings until ten o’clock, and you come back at four PM <i>sharp</i> every single day. Am I clear?” </p><p>“Y-yes,” Aziraphale breathed, “yes. Perfectly.” </p><p>“Don’t just sit around being lazy, either,” Gabriel said, rolling his eyes. “I want you to clean that disgusting bookshop, and I’ll need dinner ready every single night when I get home. What’s the point in hanging around doing nothing when you could be useful?” </p><p>Aziraphale hoped that was a retorical question– he wasn’t entirely certain that he was capable of much more than a simple <i>yes</i> or <i>no</i>. </p><p>Gabriel stared at him for a long, painful moment. </p><p>Then his gaze softened, and he opened his arms, beckoning Aziraphale close. </p><p>Aziraphale went, barely managing to hide a soft hiss of pain as one of Gabriel’s hands brushed across the bruise that was undoubtedly forming on the back of his head. </p><p>“C’mon, sunshine,” Gabriel breathed, pulling Aziraphale close, rocking them both slowly back and forth. “It’s been a long day. And you’ve got work to do tomorrow, don’t you? So let’s go to bed, hm? Get some rest.” </p><p>Aziraphale nodded meekly, still clinging to Gabriel, desperately soaking in the warmth of his partner’s arms, the gentle affection that felt harder and harder to earn with each day that passed. He let himself be led through the flat, bundled into bed, let Gabriel curl around him from behind and brush up– again– on the bruise that the wall had left, but he didn’t dare complain, because if he did then Gabriel would <i>stop</i>, would stop holding him so close and tight, like he’d never let go, and Aziraphale was quite sure that if this momentary kindness ended now, before he fell asleep, he would start crying, and he wasn’t sure when he’d stop again. </p><p>He leaned– carefully, carefully, oh so carefully– into Gabriel’s touch, soaking in the warmth of his body, and, <i>oh</i>, Gabriel just held him tighter, murmuring something soft and indistinct into his ear, and Aziraphale closed his eyes tightly against the brimming tears and, eventually, willed himself to sleep.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you so so much for reading, your comments all give me life!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The Arrangement</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Aziraphale can’t keep a secret. Warlock needs some help.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I just wanna quickly say that I am so so grateful for every single one of you that’s commented!! Also, I have now caught up to what I had written before I started. I’m gonna try to keep up the once-a-day update schedule, but I also don’t wanna make any promises I can’t keep, so we’ll have to see how it goes. Fingers crossed!! </p><p>The usual warnings apply to this chapter, so please take care of yourselves, and I hope you enjoy!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Crowley dropped by the bookshop to find Aziraphale with his shirtsleeves rolled up and a filthy old feather duster in his hand, he almost thought that he’d walked into the wrong shop. </p><p>“Angel, have you been possessed or something?” he called, leaning up against one of the freshly-polished shelves, very deliberately not watching the flex of muscle in Aziraphale’s arms and very definitively not blushing like a goddamn Victorian maiden. </p><p>“Oh!” Aziraphale yelped, spinning around and fixing Crowley in an almost desperate-looking stare. “Oh, Crowley, I– I didn’t think– I– oh, I’m sorry, I wasn’t quite ready for you to– to drop by so soon.” </p><p>Crowley frowned, sufficiently distracted from those bloody arms by his angel’s nervousness. “Ready? What’s happened?” </p><p>“N-nothing,” Aziraphale said, setting the duster down and beginning to put himself back together. “Nothing at all, my dear, don’t– don’t you worry.” </p><p>Crowley’s frown deepened. “Aziraphale, you’re a terrible liar.” </p><p>Aziraphale winced, his fingers fumbling at his cuffs. “I– I’m sorry. I don’t mean to– I’m sorry. It’s… it’s just…” </p><p>“Hey,” Crowley said, taking a few steps forwards. “If… if you don’t wanna talk about, that’s okay. Don’t feel like you need to tell me just ‘cause I asked. D’you wanna just go get some lunch and forget about whatever it is?” </p><p>Aziraphale smiled sadly up at him. “Dear, I wish I could. But, um. I suppose this is rather… rather important for you to hear.” </p><p>Something cold and dangerous bubbled in Crowley’s stomach. “What happened?” </p><p>“It… oh, it…” Aziraphale took a deep breath, then blurted out, “Gabriel wants me to spy on you, and by extension Lucian Sterling.” </p><p>Crowley froze. Blinked. Blinked again. “He <i>what</i>?” </p><p>“I know,” Aziraphale groaned. “I’m a terribly liar, like you said, and besides, you know me far too well, and I care for you far too much. I would never be able to spy on you! But if I don’t give him something, he’ll be so upset with me…” </p><p>“Okay, wait, wait, hold on,” Crowley said, holding up a hand and desperately shoving aside <i>I care for you far too much</i> to think about later. “I thought you said you weren’t involved in all that stuff?” </p><p>“I– I wasn’t,” Aziraphale said, staring down at his hands, which had finished with the cuffs some time ago but were still worrying together in front of him. “But– but one of Gabriel’s enforcers saw you in the neighbourhood, and Gabriel jumped to conclusions, and, well… this is the only way I would ever be allowed to see you again. And… and I don’t think I’m ready to give that up yet.” He looked up, meeting Crowley’s eyes for just a moment, and there was something there, something small and scared that made Crowley just want to pull Aziraphale into his arms and carry him away. “Of course, if you– if you don’t want– if you can’t trust me, o-or just would– would prefer to go, I–” </p><p>“Given that you just <i>told</i> me what he wants, I think I can trust you,” Crowley said, giving Aziraphale a small sort of half-grin which slipped off his face as he considered what Aziraphale had said again. “Hang on. Gabriel’s your boyfriend, right? Not your boss?” </p><p>Aziraphale nodded. </p><p>“Then why do you have to do as he says? If he’s just asking you to spy on me, can’t you tell him no?” </p><p>Aziraphale <i>shuddered</i> at that, and Crowley felt as though his stomach had just taken quite abrupt leave of his body. </p><p>“I… no, Crowley, that– that’s exactly <i>why</i>– I just don’t want him upset with me. I don’t…” </p><p>Crowley looked Aziraphale over again, this time taking in the dark bags under his eyes, the tousled messiness of his hair that seemed to go beyond its usual unkempt curls, the way he stood with his shoulders hunched in, like he was trying to make himself smaller just from the <i>mention</i> of Gabriel. </p><p>He recognised it all as soon as he noticed it, and all of a sudden he <i>hated</i> himself for not having seen it before. </p><p>“Is he hurting you?” Crowley breathed, before he could stop himself. </p><p>Aziraphale blinked, his mouth falling open. “I– no! No, h-he’s not. Gabriel– Gabriel would <i>never</i>.” </p><p>Crowley didn’t believe that, not for a bloody second– even if Gabriel hadn’t ever laid a hand on Aziraphale, that didn’t change the fact that his angel was terrified– but he also knew better than to push. “Alright. Got it. So… what’s the plan, then?” </p><p>Aziraphale blinked, then pulled himself up a little straighter, the tension in his shoulders shifting back to his more standard <i>I’m worried about something, but I know there’s a way out of it</i> posture. “Well… I should like to keep seeing you. But… but if I do, I– I’ll need– little things, mostly, I think. I could probably– probably convince Gabriel that you aren’t too terribly… informed, I suppose. Or that, even if you were, you wouldn’t tell me about it.” </p><p>“Will you be alright, if he doesn’t get what he wants?” Crowley asked immediately. </p><p>Aziraphale frowned at him. “My dear, what Gabriel wants is to destroy Lucian Sterling and all of his underlings. I should like to prevent a full-scale war if possible.” </p><p>“Yeah, me too,” Crowley said, blinking. Aziraphale was… more clued in than Crowley had thought he’d be. </p><p>Wait. </p><p>Aziraphale was more clued in to the operations of the Archangels than Crowley had ever thought he’d be… </p><p>“I have an idea,” Crowley said. “It’s probably stupid, and maybe a little dangerous, but it’s also definitely going to keep us from worrying about the whole spy thing, and if we play it right, we might even be able to at least slow down that whole war business.” </p><p>Aziraphale tilted his head. “I’d like to hear how you plan to do that.” </p><p>“Gabriel wants information on me, yeah?” Crowley said. “Or, well, he wants information on my boss, but he wants to get it via me. And my boss wants information on Gabriel, which you have.” </p><p>Aziraphale froze. “Crowley, if Gabriel found out–” </p><p>“Lucian never asks after my sources,” Crowley said quickly. “Gabriel would never, ever know. But… but this way, we could control what sort of things each side gets. Make sure it’s… y’know, enough that we can keep spending time together, keep taking care of Warlock, without being so much that either of us– or Gabriel, or Lucian– is ever in actual danger.” </p><p>Aziraphale was still pale, still nervous and drawn, but he pursed his lips at Crowley’s suggestion, frowning. “But– but wouldn’t that be lying?” </p><p>“Not really,” Crowley said. “They’re both still getting the information they want an’ all, and they’re getting it the way they want it. We just… have a little more control, over what information they’re each getting.” Crowley flashed Aziraphale what he hoped was either a reassuring smile or a rakish grin. “Besides, the other choice is for us both to try and spy on each other while fully aware that’s what we’re doing, and I feel like that’ll make lunch awkward.” </p><p>Aziraphale let out a little laugh at that, some of the worry lifting from his face, and that warm thing in Crowley’s chest expanded at the sound. </p><p>“All right,” Aziraphale said. “That… that does seem rather difficult, when you put it like that. I suppose your way is probably easier.” </p><p>“Easiest thing on Earth,” Crowley said. “Let me tempt you to lunch. I’ll complain about my boss and you complain about your boyfriend, and tomorrow we’ll take Warlock for sushi like always. Sound good?” </p><p>“That sounds perfect, my dear,” Aziraphale said, and Crowley beamed, letting Aziraphale lead them both over to the Bentley. </p><p>As they settled in, Aziraphale glanced over at Crowley. “Do you… do you really think it’ll work?” </p><p>“Course it’ll work,” Crowley said, the words tumbling out before he could properly think about them. “You know I’d never let you get hurt.” </p><p>Then he snapped his mouth shut before it could betray him further, resolutely out of the windscreen. <i>He’s got a bloody boyfriend, you idiot. He’s dating a man who wants you dead. </i></p><p><i>He’s dating a man who wants you dead, and he seems utterly terrified of him.</i> </p><p>“O-oh,” Aziraphale said softly. “Well… well, I– I prefer you safe, too. Though I– I’m sure you’ve quite realised that by now.” </p><p>“Right,” Crowley said, his blush deepening. “Cool. Awesome.” </p><p><i>I’ve got to start keeping a much closer eye on Gabriel Wright.</i> </p><p>The silence hung for another long moment, and then Crowley started up the car, pulling out of his semi-legal parking space more carefully than normal. “Right. Where to, then? That French café you like just added a new crêpe dish.” </p><p>“Oh, that sounds lovely,” Aziraphale said. “Have I ever told you about the time I got arrested over crêpes?” </p><p>Crowley whipped around to face him. “You have <i>not</i>. What did you <i>do</i>?” </p><p>“Watch the road!” Aziraphale protested. “I’ll tell you when we get there, assuming you don’t kill us both on the way.” </p><p>Crowley obligingly turned his gaze back to the windshield, even as he said, “Nope. Nuh-uh. You don’t get to drop something like that and then just move on, and if we wait ‘till we get there you’ll be too busy nagging me to remember. Spill. Now. What happened?” </p><p>“Oh, well,” Aziraphale said, settling into his storytelling posture as well as he could with his hand gripping the door handle like his life depended on it. “It was years ago, now. I had a brief layover in Paris, and I got rather peckish just sitting in the airport for so long…” </p><p>Crowley grinned over at his angel, watching him as much as he could while driving. </p><p><i>This is worth it</i>, he thought, the warmth in his chest expanding again, until it felt nearly big enough to make the whole bloody car float. <i>All of it, Gabriel and Lucian and everything else, it’s all worth it for this.</i> </p><p>### </p><p>Gabriel didn’t ask after Crowley that night, nor the night after, nor the night after that. It was more than a week before he brought Crowley up at all, and when he did, he seemed… if not satisfied, then at least unsurprised by the information that Aziraphale gave him. </p><p>Aziraphale didn’t dare to push his forgiveness, though. He followed the new rules that Gabriel had given him exactly, ensuring that everything was perfect at the flat and that the bookshop was the cleanest it had been since he’d moved his collection in. </p><p>It was… it was a little tiring, to be sure, but Aziraphale was all right. He had been tired before, and he would be tired again. He just… had to get used to this routine. That was all. He was <i>fine</i>, honestly. </p><p>A week and a half after first agreeing to this new Arrangement with Crowley, Aziraphale found himself sitting in a quaint little Italian restaurant alongside Crowley and Warlock, listening to the child describing their plans for their eleventh birthday. </p><p>“My mom won’t let me have my party in an escape room, which is dumb, but I am gonna have a magician and a whole lot of cake,” Warlock was saying. “But I was thinking I wanted to do something after the party, but I think I need some help with it.” </p><p>Aziraphale felt his stomach drop. “Oh, I– I’m afraid that I would probably be the wrong person to ask…” </p><p>“You don’t need to be there,” Warlock said. “I just wanna… I think I wanna tell my parents. About… about me, I mean. The whole not-a-boy thing.” </p><p>Aziraphale and Crowley locked eyes over the table. </p><p>“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Crowley asked gently. </p><p>“You guys are the ones who’re always telling me to be myself!” Warlock said. “I just wanna be myself with them, too.” </p><p>“I know, my dear,” Aziraphale said softly, reaching out and covering Warlock’s hand with his. Ten (<i>almost eleven!</i> Warlock’s voice protested in his head) was still so very young, and Warlock’s hand felt so small in his. “We just… we want to make sure that you would be safe, dear.” </p><p>“From what you’ve told us about your dad… it doesn’t seem like he’d be too happy about it,” Crowley said. </p><p>“I wanna tell him,” Warlock said resolutely. “But… but I don’t really know <i>how</i>.” </p><p>“Well, we can certainly help with that,”<br/>
Aziraphale said, patting Warlock’s hand once more before withdrawing and sharing another slightly-nervous glance with Crowley. </p><p>“You said your birthday’s in two weeks, then?” Crowley asked, shifting slightly so that his slouch faced Warlock a little more fully. </p><p>They grinned and nodded. “I can’t <i>wait</i>!” </p><p>“Don’t rush to grow up, dear,” Aziraphale said. “You can never go back to being a child.” </p><p>Warlock rolled their eyes. “That’s what Brother Francis always used to say to me. It’s <i>dumb</i>. Once I’m a grown-up I don’t have to listen to what Mom and Dad tell me to do anymore!” </p><p>“They do have a point,” Crowley said, grinning over at Aziraphale. </p><p>“Oh, hush,” Aziraphale said, waving Crowley’s words off. “Don’t you listen to him, my dear. Listen to me. Now. Did you have an idea for what you might want to say?” </p><p>The rest of the lunch passed in a bit of a blur of planning, and then Aziraphale and Crowley were bundling Warlock off into their usual car home before heading back to the bookshop themselves. </p><p>“I don’t like this plan Warlock’s come up with,” Crowley said immediately when they’d pulled up out front. “Their parents remind me too much of mine, and that’s not a good thing.” </p><p>“No, I know,” Aziraphale said. “I rather agree with you. But… well, I’m not certain that we’ll be able to sway them.” </p><p>“What do we do, then? Because you know as well as I do that I absolutely cannot take in a child.” </p><p>“You do have plenty of money, and you’re so good with them–” Aziraphale began. </p><p>“Angel,” Crowley interrupted. “Half of London wants me dead. I can’t put that kind of thing on a kid.” </p><p>Aziraphale bit his lip, worrying his hands together. “Well, then. I suppose that means it rather falls on me, doesn’t it?” </p><p>Crowley stared him. “You’re not talking about bringing Warlock to Gabriel, are you?” </p><p>“No!” Azirpahale said immediately, a spike of terror shooting through him at the thought of Gabriel knowing about any of this. “No, of course not! I would never…” </p><p><i>I would never subject someone else to Gabriel.</i> </p><p>The thought occurred to him quite without his permission, and Aziraphale shoved it away as forcefully as he could. If Gabriel found out… </p><p>“I don’t want to endanger them any more than you do,” Aziraphale said instead. “But there must be something we can do.” </p><p>Crowley’s mouth twisted into a frown. “We’ll help them through this. I’ll do some more digging on their dad, see what I can scrounge up. So far as I remember he doesn’t actively support anything vile, at least not politically, but that won’t necessarily mean anything.” </p><p>“No, I suppose not,” Aziraphale sighed. “We ought to help them plan their coming out, too. Make sure they come up with some… contingencies. Perhaps we could get in touch with that Brother Francis of theirs?” </p><p>“Please, angel, that guy sounds even more bohemian than you are. Even I probably won’t be able to find him.” </p><p>Aziraphale tilted his head slightly, acquiescing. </p><p>“I’ll do some research tonight and drop by tomorrow,” Crowley said. “We’ll come up with a plan, make sure we can find a way to keep them safe.” </p><p>“Yes,” Aziraphale said, “that sounds–”</p><p>Then he caught sight of the time. </p><p>“Oh, dear,” he breathed, his blood running cold as he threw open the Bentley’s door and darted out. “Oh, I’m sorry, my dear, I hate to cut this short, but I really must be going…” </p><p>“You alright?” Crowley asked, clambering out of the car as well while Aziraphale darted to the bookshop door. </p><p>“Perfectly!” Aziraphale called over his shoulder. “Tip-top. Absolutely tickety-boo. I’ll see you tomorrow! Mind how you go!” And with that, he closed the door behind him and began his mad dash to close up the shop properly before heading back to the flat for the night. </p><p>In the end, Aziraphale got back to the flat at 4:03. As he closed the door behind him, he sucked in a shaky breath. </p><p>Perhaps Gabriel wouldn’t know. Perhaps he wouldn’t check the security footage today. Or perhaps he wouldn’t care– it was just three minutes. Almost nothing. It would be all right. </p><p>Right? </p><p>### </p><p>Crowley made his way towards Lucian’s office, forcibly shoving his lingering thoughts of Warlock and Aziraphale from his mind. The last thing he needed was for Lucian to find out about either of them. </p><p>The headquarters of the Devils was located in the basement of some fancy corporate office building that Lucian owned. It was cold, damp, dingy, and crowded, and there was a part of Crowley that was grateful for Lucian’s little home visits, if only because they meant he didn’t have to come down here quite as often. </p><p>Lucian was already waiting when Crowley got to his office, a slightly-less-dingy, slightly-less-damp room that was bloody hotter than Hell itself. </p><p>“There you are,” Lucian said as Crowley closed the door behind himself. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t come.” </p><p>“Nah, y’know me,” Crowley said, shrugging. “Just… fashionably late, and all.” </p><p>“Hm.” Lucian looked him over. “What news do you have?” </p><p>“Well, the Archangels are planning to establish a foothold in Soho,” Crowley said. Aziraphale had mentioned it the other day, describing a phone call Gabriel had been on for nearly forty minutes, before he’d cut himself off with a shudder and a muttered <i>”He wasn’t happy that night”</i>, and Crowley had felt something heavy settle in his stomach, and had been about to ask before the waiter had come over with the check. </p><p>“Soho?” Lucian asked, jolting Crowley back to the present. “Interesting. Not what it used to be, Soho. Why go there?” </p><p>“M’not sure,” Crowley said, shrugging. “My source didn’t know why, just that the push would be starting in two weeks.” </p><p>“Hm.” Lucian’s gaze locked with Crowley’s, and, not for the first time, Crowley was wildly glad that he had kept his sunglasses on despite the gloom. “You’ve mentioned this source of yours a couple of times now. Perhaps we should bring him into the fold?” </p><p>Crowley’s blood ran cold. “Ngk. No, I, um, I don’t think that’s a good idea. He’s– he’s really not the double-agent type…” </p><p>“It sounds as though he is. Maybe I ought to meet him.” </p><p>“No!” Crowley blurted out before he could stop himself. </p><p>Lucian stared at him for a long moment, one eyebrow raised. “No?” </p><p>“He’s– I’m conning him,” Crowley said, desperately trying to find a lie that would put Lucian off of Aziraphale’s scent. “He has no idea I even work for you. He’s just…  if you try to talk to him, or send any of the others, he’ll clam up, I guarantee. Just… just let me do my job, yeah? I’ve got it under control.” </p><p>Slowly, Lucian stood up and very nearly strolled towards Crowley, crowding him up against the wall. </p><p>“Don’t forget who you are,” he said, his voice quiet enough that the noise of the hallway outside would have drowned it out had he not been standing so close. “I <i>own</i> you, Anthony Jay Crowley. Your new friend can’t save you from me.” </p><p>“Never thought he could,” Crowley said, struggling not to back up. “Besides, that’s not– we’re not– it’s not like that at <i>all</i>. He thinks we’re friends, and I let him. It’s to get what we need. I don’t get attached.” </p><p>Lucian stared at Crowley for another long, almost painful moment.<br/>
Then he backhanded Crowley across the face, quickly enough that Crowley couldn’t brace against it, couldn’t do anything. He yelped, stumbling to the side, a hand flying to his cheek. </p><p>“Don’t forget your place, Anthony,” Lucian said, his voice still entirely calm. “Keep up the good work, darling. I’ll see you next week for an update.” </p><p>“Right,” Crowley said, wrestling against every instinct he had in order to stay calm. He couldn’t show any weakness. Not here. Not now. Not in front of Lucian. “Sssee you.” </p><p>Then Crowley darted out into the hallway and wove his way back upstairs, making it back to the Bentley in record time. </p><p>Once there, safe behind the tinted windows, he slumped back in the seat, touching his cheek gingerly and hissing slightly at the sharp pain of it. </p><p>“That’s gonna bruise,” he muttered, starting up the Bentley and taking off. </p><p>It had been a long time since Lucian had pulled some shit like that– nearly five years, if Crowley had his count right. Chances were, he wouldn’t do anything like it again for a while, assuming Crowley didn’t manage to piss him off, but that was always easier said than done. </p><p>It’s not like there was much Crowley could really do about it. Lucian was right– he more or less owned Crowley. After that night in the alley, Ligur had unfortunately made a full recovery, and Crowley knew that he and Hastur were gunning for revenge. They weren’t the only ones– Crowley had a tendency to piss people off. And that’s not even to mention the Archangels. </p><p>Crowley was trapped, and he bloody well knew it, too. </p><p>He made his way into his flat, wincing slightly when he caught sight of the blossoming bruise on his cheek. He’d need to put some ice on it before it got worse, and there was a good chance that it’d still be visible by tomorrow, even with makeup over it. </p><p>Lucian was getting a little too interested in Aziraphale for Crowley’s taste. Jumping straight back up to direct physical threats after years of simple implication was worrying. But still, with how Aziraphale had been acting recently, with how he’d run off earlier today… </p><p>Lucian protected his own, even fucked up as he was. If Aziraphale was being hurt, if he needed an out, well. Lucian had taken in desperate turncoats before. Eric, Erik, and Erick were some of his top operatives, these days. </p><p>A plan started to form in Crowley’s mind, a half-desperate, half-baked plan, but then, that was how all his plans started. He’d work it out tonight, in between doing more research on Dowling, and tomorrow, he’d see Aziraphale. They’d talk. And maybe, just maybe, they could start to work things out. </p><p>### </p><p>Aziraphale settled into the seat behind his desk with a wince, trying to find a decently comfortable position. Gabriel had noticed that Aziraphale was late getting home, and he hadn’t been happy about it. It had taken him nearly half an hour to calm down, and in that time he’d managed to kick Aziraphale more than once in just the right way to aggravate the old war-wound on his hip, among other things. It was… it wasn’t entirely pleasant to deal with today, but Aziraphale could handle it. He was perfectly fine. There was nothing– </p><p>The bell above the shop door jingled open, and Aziraphale jumped up before he could think better of it, prompting a wave of pain and a faint wince. </p><p>“Alright, I’ve got some ideas for what to do for Warlock, but I need some feedback,” Crowley said, emerging into the back room. </p><p>Aziraphale’s eyes landed on him, and then he froze. </p><p>There was a bruise on his cheek– it was relatively faint, covered by foundation, but still obviously there and rather painful-looking. </p><p>“Crowley, what happened?” Aziraphale asked, hurrying over to him, his hip momentarily forgotten until it twinged again. </p><p>“S’nothing,” Crowley said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I’m fine. Just… Lucian was a little ticked off about something last night. It’s not a big deal.” </p><p>Something cold and dark washed over Aziraphale in a wave, some odd mix of sympathy and fury that left him almost light-headed. “Lucian did this?” </p><p>“It’s just a bruise,” Crowley said, ducking his head, and that was when Aziraphale realised that he had reached out, had nearly touched Crowley’s face. </p><p>He took a step back, his own face growing hot, and barely managed to hide his own wince. “My dear… I hate the thought of someone hurting you.” </p><p>“I’m <i>fine</i>, Aziraphale,” Crowley said, rolling his whole head to compensate for the glasses blocking his eyes. “Don’t worry about me.” </p><p>“I’m afraid it’s rather too late for that,” Aziraphale said softly, his gaze tracing the outline of the bruise as best he could with the makeup in the way. </p><p>If Crowley was in danger, if Lucian was hurting him… </p><p>Bringing Crowley to the Archangels, telling them that he meant to defect, would be a rather different proposition than doing the same with Warlock. Gabriel and Michael were growing more and more frustrated with Lucian’s operations– they would welcome an informant. And Crowley would be protected. He would be <i>safe</i>. </p><p>Or, well. As safe as anyone in their world could ever be. </p><p>Crowley had frozen at Aziraphale’s words, his face going red. “Ngk. Um. Right. Well. I, uh. I was gonna tell you something…” </p><p>“You mentioned Warlock, when you came in?” Aziraphale prompted. </p><p>“Right! Right. Dowling Senior hasn’t pushed any blatantly awful legislation, but he also hasn’t legislated in twelve years, so that’s not a great metric,” Crowley said. “Let’s go come up with a game plan over lunch? I’ve got some potential resources mapped out just in case…” He turned to head to the door, and the change of lighting threw the bruise into new relief. </p><p>“Wait,” Aziraphale said, an idea occurring to him, before he turned and hurried over to the cash box, ignoring his leg– it was only a little bit worse than it tended to get when it snowed, and Aziraphale refused to limp then, as well. </p><p>Crowley paused, raising an eyebrow. </p><p>For just a moment, Aziraphale hesitated. If Lucian found out… if <i>Gabriel</i> found out… </p><p>“Angel?” Crowley asked, his voice gentle and soft, and then he was pushing up his glasses, his beautiful golden eyes shining with concern, and Aziraphale knew instantly that it was worth it. Anything was worth it, to keep him safe. </p><p>“Here,” Aziraphale said, pulling the spare key to the bookshop out of the cash box and hurrying back over to Crowley’s side. “This… this is to the back door. You can– if you need somewhere to go, if you need a place… Gabriel doesn’t like to come by, he hates the books, and I sincerely doubt that anyone on Lucian’s side would look for you here. So, if you… if you need a place to… to hide out, for a little while… you can come here. Even if I’m not around.” </p><p>Crowley reached out, slowly, slowly, and took the key, his fingers brushing ever so briefly against Aziraphale’s as he did, and Aziraphale had to suppress a shiver at the contact. </p><p>“Angel…” Crowley breathed. </p><p>“I have the only other copy,” Aziraphale said, patting his pocket, where his keys were located. “As I said, Gabriel doesn’t– doesn’t take an interest in the shop. And there’s a flat upstairs, it– it’s small, a-and a bit dusty, but it’s furnished and everything, and–” </p><p>Aziraphale gasped as Crowley reached out and pulled him into a hug. He was… he was warm, and... and solid, in a wiry sort of way, and he… he fit, somehow, his chin tucked over Aziraphale’s shoulder, their bodies pressed close together. </p><p>Carefully, as carefully as he could, almost afraid that to do so would break the moment, Aziraphale hugged Crowley back, holding him close. </p><p>“Thank you,” Crowley breathed, his voice a gentle whisper up against Aziraphale’s ear, and all Aziraphale could do was nod and pull him just a little bit closer. </p><p>Crowley smelt of woodsmoke and petrichor, of warmth and comfort, and Aziraphale sucked in a shaky breath, squeezing his eyes closed, letting the pain and the fear and everything just… melt away, just for a moment. Just a moment. </p><p>Then Crowley pulled back, a weak sort of grin spreading across his face. “Still my guardian angel, aren’t you?” </p><p>Aziraphale laughed shakily, taking a half a step back. “Flatterer.” </p><p>“Only to you, angel,” Crowley said, his voice achingly gentle, as he pulled out the keys to the Bentley and began attaching the new addition to the ring. “Lunch?” </p><p>“That sounds lovely, my dear,” Aziraphale said, letting Crowley slide his glasses back on and lead them both outside. </p><p>The moment was gone. The pain in Aziraphale’s hip was back. The fear was back– fear for Crowley, fear for Warlock, fear for himself (Aziraphale had always been a coward, he knew). But there was something… different, somehow. Something warm, growing in Aziraphale’s chest and spreading throughout his entire body. Something in the way Crowley looked at him, the drumming of his fingers against the steering wheel, the way the air between them hung heavy and warm. </p><p>For the first time in… Lord, for the first time in nearly fifteen years, Aziraphale felt <i>hopeful</i>.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>it’s all about the intimacy of displays of love and trust through grand gestures that can only be understood as such when you really know the person they’re coming from </p><p>Thank you so much for reading!! Kudos and comments always make my day, I would super appreciate it if you’d leave some feedback, and I’ll have the next chapter out as soon as it’s done!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Soho</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Warlock makes some observations, and Crowley gets a new assignment.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Now you guys are getting to see why there’s so much time between my fics, lol. This chapter is a little shorter– sorry about that– but I hope it’s still up to snuff! Thank you guys so much for reading, and to everyone who’s commented, I’m sorry for never responding (my anxiety is super weird about that kind of stuff, I’m sorry) but I love and appreciate all of you!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Crowley couldn’t bloody stop smiling. </p><p>It had been three days since Aziraphale had given him the key, and every time he caught sight of it, or remembered it, or remembered the hug, the way Aziraphale had felt pressed up against him, warm and soft and gentle, the scent of him, of old books and Earl Grey and <i>home</i>, he’d be grinning like an idiot again. </p><p>They were walking to lunch, today– it was sunny, and warm, and the mugginess that tended to hang in the air in August had receded for the day. Aziraphale was talking about a new shipment he’d gotten in the day before, and Crowley strode beside him, hands shoved as deep as they would go in his pockets (bloody women’s jeans, if only they didn’t look so damn good) in order to wrap around the key to the bookshop. <i>His</i> key to the bookshop. </p><p>Crowley glanced over at his angel, only halfway fighting against the smile that threatened to overwhelm him. He never planned to use the bookshop key– he’d never do that to Aziraphale, never lead the danger that followed him to the angel’s door, but the fact that he’d been given it… </p><p>“Are you alright, dear?” Aziraphale’s voice, warm and concerned, broke through Crowley’s musings. </p><p>“Yeah,” he said, shaking himself mentally. “Yeah, I’m good. Sorry. Just got… lost in thought, I guess. What were you saying?” </p><p>Aziraphale smiled gently. “Oh, nothing of any importance. What were you thinking about?” </p><p>“Just… it’s a good day, today. Really good day,” Crowley said, his fingers brushing almost compulsively against the key. </p><p>The furrow of concern between Aziraphale’s brows didn’t go away entirely, but it did fade slightly. “It is, isn’t it?” </p><p>They walked in companionable silence for another long moment, and Crowley found himself more than content to just soak in Aziraphale’s company. </p><p>Then he heard the voices, low and grating, far enough that he couldn’t make out the words but more than close enough to cause trouble. </p><p>Beez and Dagon. </p><p>Acting on instinct, Crowley grabbed Aziraphale and shoved him into the nearest alley, a dingy little thing populated by a smelly dumpster and not much else, and pushed him up against the wall. </p><p>“C-Crowley?” Aziraphale whimpered. “Crowley, wh-what–?” </p><p>“Shh,” Crowley hissed, keeping one hand on Aziraphale’s arm to hold him in place while he peeked around the corner. </p><p>Sure enough, there they were, tall and short, light and dark, both slimy and vicious. Dagon, who worked in accounts in Lucian’s “official” company and had brought all the shrewdness of a businesswoman with nothing to lose to the job, and Beez, Lucian’s veritable right hand. </p><p>What the bloody hell were they doing in <i>Soho</i>? This was Gabriel’s territory. </p><p>Oh, <i>fuck</i>. This was <i>Gabriel’s</i> territory. </p><p>“Right,” Crowley growled, turning back to face Aziraphale once more. “We’ve got to–” </p><p>Then he froze, a spike of fear rising up in his gut. </p><p>Aziraphale was staring at him, his eyes wide, his face pale, his entire body trembling slightly, and when Crowley turned around, he <i>flinched</i>. </p><p>“Shit,” Crowley breathed, letting go of Aziraphale’s arm immediately and stumbling back. “Shit, Aziraphale, I– I’m–” </p><p>Aziraphale immediately dropped his gaze down to his feet, his breath coming in tiny, almost-silent pants. “I’m sorry– I’m sorry, Crowley, whatever I–” He flinched again, as though he were trying to make himself smaller. “I’m sorry.” </p><p>“No, no, no, I’m sorry,” Crowley said, wanting desperately to reach out, to console Aziraphale, but not sure if trying to touch him again now would make things worse. “Shit, I’m so– what happened? What did I do?” </p><p>Aziraphale glanced up at him, just for a brief second, and the confusion and terror on his face made Crowley’s chest clench. “You– the wall–” </p><p>“Oh, fuck,” Crowley breathed. “Aziraphale, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you– I’m sorry, I thought–” </p><p>Aziraphale shook his head, glancing up again. “You didn’t. You didn’t hurt me. I just… I thought…” </p><p>“You thought I was going to,” Crowley surmised. “But... why–?” </p><p>Aziraphale flushed darkly, and a slow, sickening realisation dawned on Crowley, one that he’d had multiple times now, one that somehow never failed to knock him on his arse every single bloody time. </p><p>“<i>Gabriel</i>,” Crowley hissed, fury overwhelming him. “That sssick fucking <i>basstard</i>–” </p><p>“Crowley, stop,” Aziraphale protested. “If he heard you…” </p><p>Crowley took a deep breath, then forced all of his fury down to spew at his plants later. Aziraphale was here, right now, still pale and trembling and flinching when Crowley moved too quickly, and he needed him. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Crowley said. “I… I didn’t mean to– to hurt you, or to scare you, or…” </p><p>Aziraphale blinked, then swallowed nervously. “Then, um. Then… why…?” </p><p>“I saw two of Lucian’s people,” Crowley said, taking a half a step closer and lowering his voice, and something small and happy flared in him when Aziraphale didn’t react to it. “Top agents, too. Beez and Dagon.” </p><p>Aziraphale pursed his still-too-pale lips. “They’re trying to get in before Gabriel.” </p><p>“Fuck,” Crowley swore. “I won’t let them. I’ll come up with something to throw them off–” </p><p>“No!” Aziraphale protested. “Absolutely not, Crowley, that is <i>far</i> too dangerous!” </p><p>“I’m not having my boss moving into your neighbourhood,” Crowley said, shaking his head. </p><p>“Crowley, this <i>isn’t</i> my neighbourhood!” Aziraphale said, rolling his eyes. “I live with Gabriel, remember?” </p><p>“That’s the bloody problem!” Crowley snapped. </p><p>Aziraphale flinched again, almost imperceptibly, and shrank back. </p><p><i>In more bloody ways than one,</i> Crowley thought, all of his frustration transmuting into shame in an instant. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean–” </p><p>“You needn’t worry about me,” said Aziraphale, his voice shaking ever so slightly. “Apart from Gabriel and I, there are three people on Earth who know we’re… together.” He paused, then glanced up at Crowley and corrected softly, “Four people. But none of them are very talkative.” </p><p>Crowley blinked, an incongruent wave of relief battling with his rapidly-fluctuating fury. “Still, I don’t like it. I’ll just need to–” </p><p>“You will not interfere,” Aziraphale interrupted. “If you <i>sabotage</i> one of Lucian’s operations, and he finds out, he’ll destroy you.” </p><p>Crowley hissed softly. Aziraphale was right. Of course he was, the clever bastard. And Crowley may have been reckless and stupid and in lo– and <i>protective</i>, but he wasn’t suicidal, and that’s what deliberately going against Lucian would have been. No way around that. </p><p>“Could you… could you move the bookshop?” Crowley asked. </p><p>Aziraphale paled, his eyes going wide. “I– I don’t– Gabriel wouldn’t– it’s a miracle he’s let me keep it so long as it is. I don’t– there’s no chance–” </p><p>Crowley frowned. “<i>Let</i> you keep it? It’s your shop, innit?” </p><p>“Gabriel owns it,” Aziraphale said softly. “And everything in it, except for the misprint Bibles, the prophecies, and the first-edition Wildes– my parents left those behind when they died. The rest of it is all… well, Gabriel gave me <i>everything</i>. It… it’s up to him if he wants to take it away again.” </p><p>“It bloody shouldn’t be,” Crowley hissed. “What a fucking wanker, trying to control–!” </p><p>“Crowley, please,” Aziraphale pleaded, his voice shaking and his eyes unusually damp. “Please don’t.” </p><p>Crowley’s frown deepened, concern overwhelming his fury. He’d never seen Aziraphale cry before. Not once, not for all the difficult conversations they’d had recently, not for all the time they’d spent together, not for all the drunken evenings they’d shared before everything fell to shit, not once had Crowley seen Aziraphale cry. And yet, here he was, his breath shaking and his eyes damp and his whole body trembling once more. </p><p>“All right,” Crowley breathed, taking a half a step back. “Okay. I’m sorry.” </p><p>“Don’t be,” Aziraphale said, giving Crowley a vague sort of half-smile. “I know I’m being silly.” </p><p>“Not at all,” Crowley said. </p><p>He glanced around the corner again. Beez and Dagon had gone– he wasn’t sure where to, and he didn’t like that they’d been there at all, but at least the coast was clear now. </p><p>“Right,” he said, turning back to Aziraphale once more. “Beez and Dagon are gone, the coast is clear. D’you…” he paused, taking in the way Aziraphale still hadn’t stopped trembling, still looked pale and drawn. “D’you still wanna get lunch, then?” </p><p>Aziraphale bit his lip. “I-if you do, dear, that would– of course, don’t feel obligated on my account–” </p><p>That was nervous-Aziraphale speak for yes. Crowley grinned at him as best he could through his concern. “Let’s go, then. Good thing we didn’t make reservations, eh?” </p><p>Aziraphale smiled back, and it was still too thin, too small, for Crowley’s tastes, but at least it was <i>something</i>, and so Crowley led them back out onto the street, and they walked the rest of the way in a silence that was infinitely heavier than the one they’d shared before. </p><p>### </p><p>Crowley left the bookshop after lunch, but they’d eaten comparatively early today– it was only twelve-thirty now– which meant that Aziraphale still had plenty of time before he had to go back to Gabriel’s flat for the evening, and he intended to use it. </p><p>He had <i>known</i> about the security cameras in the flat before all of this, of course. Even though Gabriel hadn’t said anything, hadn’t asked him, Aziraphale wasn’t an idiot, and he’d seen them in the corners of the rooms. But, before, Gabriel hadn’t actually been <i>checking</i> them, which meant that it was no longer entirely safe for Aziraphale to truly relax in their shared space. Gabriel didn’t approve of most of Aziraphale’s choices in literature, which meant that he couldn’t read there, and given that Aziraphale had no mobile phone or computer, there wasn’t much else for him to do besides whatever miscellaneous chores Gabriel had set for him, and honestly, how many times could one possibly polish marble flooring before they were doing more harm than good? </p><p>All of this meant that, now, Aziraphale appreciated his spare time alone in the bookshop more than he ever had before, and he was quite put out when the bell above the door jingled– at least, until he heard the voice that accompanied the sound. </p><p>“Uncle Fell! Nanny! Where are you? I need to say something!” Warlock shouted. </p><p>“Warlock, my dear child!” Aziraphale called, setting his book aside “I’m in the back room, dear, come along. I’m afraid Crowley has already left for the day, so if you’d prefer to tell us both at once, it probably ought to wait.” </p><p>“Nah, I can tell him later,” Warlock said, making their way to the back room and flopping down onto the sofa in a move that was oddly reminiscent of Crowley. “Mom and Dad are being <i>dumb</i>! They’re gonna make me go away to a stupid school in the south! It’s so dumb. I don’t wanna go away.” </p><p>“I see,” Aziraphale said, standing up. “How about I make us both some cocoa, and we can talk about this?” </p><p>“That sounds good,” Warlock said, and Aziraphale puttered his way into the little kitchenette behind the back room. </p><p>If Warlock’s parents had already paid for the school, that made it that much less likely that they would do something drastic should Warlock come out to them. That was good. Aziraphale would, of course, need to look up some information on whichever school they’d chosen on the Google later tonight– these types of things were often a mixed blessing. There was no doubt that some distance from their parents would do Warlock good, but of course if the school itself was worse than their parents, things could go downhill quite quickly. </p><p>The cocoa was finished fairly quickly, and Aziraphale carried two mugs into the back room to find Warlock flipping through one of the graphic novels that he’d set aside for them. </p><p>“<i>The Graveyard Book</i>?” Aziraphale asked, glimpsing the title as he sat down beside Warlock. “That’s an excellent choice.” </p><p>“It seems fun,” said Warlock. “But who would want to kill a baby? I mean, what’s a baby ever done to him? Never mind. Let’s talk about the dumb school.” </p><p>And so they did– or, more accurately, Warlock ranted, and Aziraphale listened, administering sympathetic noises and, at one point, biscuits when it seemed appropriate. </p><p>“… and I don’t even <i>like</i> my friends but I still don’t wanna go somewhere where I’m not gonna know <i>anyone</i>!” Warlock finished, slumping back and folding their arms grumpily. </p><p>“Well, that does sound like quite the predicament,” Aziraphale said, setting his now-empty mug aside and leaning towards Warlock slightly. “Does this change your plans, regarding your birthday?” </p><p>“No,” Warlock said. “Why would it matter?” </p><p>Aziraphale couldn’t quite hide his grimace in time. “I certainly hope that it doesn’t.” </p><p>Warlock stared at him for a long time, then asked quietly, “What… what happened when you came out to your mom and dad, Uncle Fell?” </p><p>Oh, dear. “I, um. I never really did. My parents both died before I ever… ever got around to telling them, I suppose.” </p><p>“Were they… would they have been mad about it?” </p><p>Aziraphale sighed. “I… I’m not entirely certain, but I do believe they might have. That was why… well.” </p><p>“And Nanny? What happened to him?” </p><p>Aziraphale winced slightly. “I believe that’s his story to tell, my dear. Not mine.” </p><p>Warlock frowned. “It wasn’t good, either, was it? That’s why you’re both so scared of me telling my parents.” </p><p>Aziraphale laughed a little. “Goodness, I always forget how perceptive you are, dear. I suppose you’re probably correct. Your father reminds Crowley very much of his.” </p><p>“Will…” Warlock bit their lip. “Do you think my dad will still love me? Even if… even if?” </p><p>“I very dearly hope that he does,” Aziraphale said, reaching out and taking Warlock’s hand. “I truly do, my dear child. But… but even if he doesn’t, Crowley and I will. We will always love you, regardless of whatever nonsense your father might try.” </p><p>Warlock nodded and smiled up at Aziraphale, their eyes slightly watery and their hand gripping tightly to Aziraphale’s. “Thank you.” </p><p>“Of course, my dear,” Aziraphale said softly. </p><p>“I, um. I still wanna do it,” Warlock said. “Is that dumb?” </p><p>“No, it’s not dumb at all,” Aziraphale said. “It’s very brave of you, actually. But I do hope you can understand why Crowley and I are worried.” </p><p>“I’m worried, too,” Warlock said, staring down at their free hand, which was clenched in their lap. “I’m scared.” </p><p>“Oh, my dear,” Aziraphale murmured, tugging Warlock into a hug. “I know. This is a big step, and you don’t know how it’s going to go. Don’t feel as though you have to take it yet.” </p><p>“But I <i>want</i> to,” Warlock said, their voice slightly muffled by Aziraphale’s shoulder. “I want to do this. I’m just… I don’t know what my dad’s gonna do.” </p><p>“What time is your party meant to be over, dearest?” Aziraphale asked, an idea occurring to him. </p><p>“Everyone’s gotta go home at three,” Warlock said, picking their head up slightly. “Why?” </p><p>Three o’clock. And then Warlock would have their conversation with their parents… that could very well take a long time. There was no guarantee… </p><p>But it would be worth it, wouldn’t it? Aziraphale would gladly face Gabriel’s wrath to ensure that Warlock was safe. </p><p>“If it goes well, I want you to text Crowley immediately,” said Aziraphale. “I’ll make sure he’s here with me all day that day, so I’ll know, too. And if it goes poorly… if you feel at all unsafe, I want you to come straight here. We can work out what comes next together.” He lifted Warlock up a little, just enough to look them in the eyes. “You don’t have to do this alone, Warlock, and I never want you to feel as though you must.” </p><p>This time, it was Warlock who dove in for a hug, squeezing Aziraphale far more tightly than he had anticipated, given their tiny frame. </p><p>“Thank you,” they whispered again. “Thank you, thank you, <i>thank you</i>.” </p><p>“Of course,” Aziraphale said softly. “Of course.” </p><p>“You and Nanny are the best fake parents ever,” said Warlock, squeezing Aziraphale once more and then standing up. “I think I gotta go home now, and I can’t come to lunch next week because it’s gonna be my birthday. Bye, Uncle Fell!” </p><p>“Oh, let me make sure you get in the right car, dear,” Aziraphale said, tailing after Warlock as they made their way through the shop, tapping furiously on their mobile. “I know that Crowley does, but I still do not entirely trust that Oover application that you use.” </p><p>“<i>Uber</i>, Uncle Fell,” Warlock corrected with a laugh. </p><p>“Ah, yes,” Aziraphale said, “silly old me.” He had known that, of course, but it always made Warlock laugh when he mispronounced it, so he had no intention of stopping any time soon. </p><p>“You and Nanny are the weirdest couple ever,” said Warlock, grinning up at Aziraphale. “I’m glad you love each other so much.” Then they turned and darted out onto the pavement, calling, “Bye, Uncle Fell!” over their shoulder once more. </p><p>Aziraphale stood in the doorway to the shop, utterly frozen, Warlock’s words playing over and over in his head. <i>Weirdest couple ever. I’m glad you love each other so much. </i></p><p><i>Glad you love each other so much. </i>
</p><p><i>You love each other so much.</i> </p><p>They were right.</p><p>The realisation hit Aziraphale over the head like a hammer, and he stumbled inside, only managing to turn the sign to closed through sheer force of habit before collapsing into his armchair in the back room, his whole body trembling once more. </p><p>He did. He loved Crowley. He was <i>in love with</i> Crowley, completely, irrevocably. </p><p>Oh, Lord. If Gabriel found out… </p><p>Aziraphale couldn’t be in love with Crowley! He just couldn’t. They– they were on opposite sides! Aziraphale was dating someone else! And– and there was no way that Crowley could ever love him back, not like that. Crowley was clever and brave and witty and funny and kind and <i>gorgeous</i>, and Aziraphale was… was Aziraphale, slow and dull and useless and so, so afraid, all the time. His stupid, pointless panic earlier today, when Crowley had just been trying to protect him, was more than sufficient proof of that. </p><p><i>He calls you angel,</i> a voice in Aziraphale’s head whispered. <i>He comes around nearly every day. You know you can make him happy. That has to count for something, doesn’t it?</i> </p><p>It hardly mattered. Aziraphale was with Gabriel. Aziraphale owed Gabriel <i>everything</i>. Even if he was in love with someone else… </p><p>Even if he hadn’t loved Gabriel in years… </p><p>Aziraphale shook himself firmly. It wasn’t even worth entertaining such thoughts. Yes, all right, he was in love with his best friend. That… that sort of thing happened sometimes, didn’t it? And it didn’t mean he had to act on it. He could just… just continue to protect Crowley from a safe distance, as best he could, and ensure that neither he nor Gabriel ever discovered this… complication. </p><p><i>It will be all right,</i> Aziraphale thought as firmly as he could. <i>I’ll just… nothing has to change, now that I’ve realised. We’ll just… keep up the Arrangement, and I’ll keep him as safe as I can, and Gabriel never needs to know. It will be all right. </i></p><p><i>It has to be.</i> </p><p>Aziraphale glanced up at the grandfather clock in the corner of the back room, before settling in a little more firmly with the book he had set aside earlier. He still had another hour before he needed to leave, and he intended to make good use of it. </p><p>### </p><p>Crowley was planning. </p><p>Or, more accurately, he was utterly failing to come up with any sort of plan whatsoever. </p><p>He had to do something. He couldn’t just– just <i>leave</i> Aziraphale with that bastard, not when he was so obviously scared and hurt. Crowley had to do something. </p><p>With a sigh, Crowley stood up from the desk in his flat and began to pace uselessly. He’d already spent twenty minutes shouting at his plants, and was a bit yelled-out, but he couldn’t just sit still and do nothing. </p><p>Just asking Aziraphale to leave wasn’t going to work. They’d been together for fifteen bloody years (and Crowley felt like he was about to be sick at that thought, fifteen bloody <i>years</i> of whatever Gabriel had done…) and, like Aziraphale had said, Gabriel apparently owned everything of Aziraphale’s. The angel was trapped, plain and simple, and it would take a good, solid plan– </p><p>Crowley’s phone rang. </p><p>He groaned loudly, fishing it out of his pocket and glaring at it before picking it up. </p><p>“What?” he grunted. </p><p>“Lucian has an assignment for you.” Beez’s voice always sounded like it was buzzing– or maybe those were just the lights in zir office. </p><p>“Why doesn’t he tell me himself, then?” Crowley asked, making his way back to his desk and slumping down again. </p><p>“It’zz time-sensitive,” said Beez. “He wants you to lead the push into Soho.” </p><p>Crowley froze. “Wh-what? Me? Lead the– you know project management isn’t… isn’t really my scene…” </p><p>“You’re not managing anything,” said Beez. “You’re just getting all of the Archangels’ people out of Soho in the next four days.” </p><p>“That’s one hell of an order,” Crowley said, hoping desperately that the terror mounting in his chest didn’t come through in his voice. </p><p>“Only for the best,” Beez said. “If you fail, Crowley, if there is a single person left in that neighbourhood with a tie to Gabriel Wright or his cronies by noon on Tuesday, you will wish that we had killed you. Do I make myself clear?” </p><p>Crowley gritted his teeth. “Crystal.” </p><p>Beez hung up, and Crowley threw his mobile down onto his desk as hard as he could without breaking the damn thing. </p><p>“Shit,” he hissed. “Shit, shit, shit! Goddammit! Great bloody pustulant mangled bollocks! <i>Fuck</i>!” He launched himself to his feet again, resuming his pacing, running a frantic hand through his hair. </p><p>Right. He had to clear out Soho. On its own, that shouldn’t be too difficult– none of Gabriel’s people were really any more sophisticated than Lucian’s, as much as they both liked to pretend otherwise, and they could be spotted just as easily. It was just… it was just… </p><p>If Lucian moved into Soho, that put Aziraphale in danger. And there was no way Crowley was going to try and make Aziraphale abandon the bookshop– he loved that place to an almost absurd degree. But if he didn’t do something, that put them both at risk. Crowley had seen enough people fuck up jobs before him that he knew that Beez’s threats were never empty. Never before had one quite so severe been directed at <i>him</i>. </p><p>“Right,” Crowley muttered, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Right, then. I’ve just got to figure something out. Shouldn’t be that hard.” </p><p>He shifted slightly, propping his feet up on his desk and sighing. <i>I’ll plan some sort of distraction on the other side of town, get everyone out of there. And… and Aziraphale had said that no one knows about him and Gabriel. Bloody ridiculous if you ask me, how could anyone be dating that absolute bloody angel and not want– not the point. He’s… as safe as he’s getting, isn’t he? It’ll be okay. I’ll just make sure to direct Lucian’s attention elsewhere. Bit like juggling, really. I can handle that.</i> </p><p>With a groan, Crowley shifted again, taking his legs off the desk and leaning forwards to begin to sort out a plan. He had four days until the push, and he’d talk to Aziraphale before then, too. They’d work it out. They always did. </p><p>Everything was going to be all right. </p><p>It <i>had</i> to be.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you so so much for reading! Comments and kudos make my day!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Not To Be</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Aziraphale has a decision to make.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I promise, there will be comfort. Just, uh… not yet. But we’ll get there, I swear!! </p><p>Thank you all so much for reading, as always. All of your lovely comments absolutely make my day.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was Sunday afternoon, and Crowley absolutely wasn’t panicking. </p><p>He hadn’t seen Aziraphale yesterday– he’d been too busy trying to work out what the fuck he was going to do to get all of Gabriel’s people to abandon an entire section of London. He’d worked something out– it involved a cell tower, London’s mobile phone network, and a great deal more rats than Crowley entirely knew what to do with– but it meant that he still hadn’t told Aziraphale, or figured out how to handle his situation. </p><p>He was currently parked outside the bookshop, trying desperately to come up with some sort of plan to present to Aziraphale, which the angel would undoubtedly adjust to make it actually feasible, and then everything could be okay. There was no need to panic. Things were fine! Things were going to be fine. </p><p>Crowley unfolded himself out of the car and made it all the way through the door of the bookshop before he realised that he didn’t, actually, have any sort of plan at all, but then Aziraphale was there, <i>beaming</i> at him and taking off the little readers that Crowley wasn’t entirely sure that he actually needed, and Crowley felt himself relaxing involuntarily at the sight. </p><p>“Crowley!” Aziraphale said, hurrying over to him. “My dear, there’s been a bit of a development with Warlock.” </p><p>“Angel,” Crowley said, “we need– wait, what? Warlock? What happened? Are they okay?” </p><p>“They seem to be, at least for now,” said Aziraphale, “but their father is planning to send them to an all-boy’s school, and the headmaster of said school is, um... <i>outspoken</i>.” </p><p>“Oh, bloody hell,” Crowley said, throwing his arms up in the air. “Of course.” </p><p>“That was rather my train of thought, as well,” Aziraphale said, pursing his lips. “And… well, Warlock’s birthday is on Wednesday, and I had… had rather hoped that you would be willing to spend a little extra time here that day, just so that– well, you know I don’t have a mobile, so I could hardly know if Warlock were to text you something…” </p><p>“Of course,” Crowley said again, feeling a smile starting to spread across his face before he managed to squash it back down. “‘M always glad to spend more time with you, angel.” </p><p>“O-oh,” Aziraphale said softly, his cheeks turning faintly pink. “Oh. Well, I– yes. Of course. Um. Right. Well, then…” He seemed to shake himself slightly, then asked, “You, um. You wanted to talk about something?” </p><p>Crowley cursed under his breath, then nodded. “Right. Yeah. This is… remember when we ran into Beez and Dagon on Friday?” </p><p>Aziraphale blinked, his hands twitching slightly. “I… yes. Are you all right, my dear? They didn’t–” </p><p>“Nah, they didn’t catch me,” Crowley said quickly. “Had no idea we were there. But they… you were right about them trying to make their move early. They, um. They’re planning to hit on Tuesday at noon, and… and they want anyone and everyone with connections to Gabriel cleared out of here by then.” </p><p>Aziraphale frowned slightly. “Why would that–” </p><p>Then he froze, his eyes going wide. “Oh. That means me, doesn’t it?” </p><p>“Not just you,” Crowley said. “But I’ve got a plan for the rest of them, I just…” </p><p>“It– it shouldn’t– shouldn’t be too difficult, should it? For me to avoid them?” Aziraphale asked. “Especially given that– well, I don’t think that many people know. Unless…” </p><p>“I haven’t told anyone,” Crowley said quickly. “Promise. I– you know I’d never–” </p><p>“Of course,” Aziraphale said. “I know you wouldn’t, my dear, I trust you entirely. But… well, I’m not entirely sure.”</p><p>Crowley just sort of stared for a moment, trying to process <i>I trust you entirely</i>. Bloody hell, was Aziraphale <i>trying</i> to kill him? </p><p>Aziraphale saw the look on Crowley’s face, and continued hurriedly, “It’s not anything for you to worry about, my dear. You said Tuesday… well, perhaps it would be best if I stayed at the flat during this whole debacle, wouldn’t it?” </p><p>“Yeah,” Crowley said. “Yeah, that’s probably a good plan. But… but if they do know, angel… we’ll need to figure something better out. I don’t… I mean, I could be wrong here, but I don’t think you want to stay there forever, do you?” </p><p>“Not particularly, no,” Aziraphale said, shuddering slightly. “Which, I know, is terribly ungrateful of me, it is a lovely flat, but–” </p><p>“S’not <i>ungrateful</i>, it’s self-preservation.” </p><p>“Crowley,” Aziraphale admonished, but there wasn’t any heat behind it. </p><p>“Just being honest,” Crowley said, shrugging. “Right. D’you wanna go get lunch, then? We’ll work out what to do about Warlock over some sushi.” </p><p>“That sounds lovely, dear,” Aziraphale said, that gorgeous bloody smile taking over his face again, and Crowley grinned, leading his angel out onto the street. </p><p>They would be all right. Everything would be all right, in the end. </p><p>It had to be.  </p><p>### </p><p>When Aziraphale got back to the flat that afternoon, at 3:58 PM, he found that the door was already unlocked, and Gabriel’s keys were hanging on their hook. </p><p><i>Oh, Lord</i>, Aziraphale thought desperately. <i>Not yet. Please, not yet. Just give me–</i> </p><p>“Hey there, sunshine! So glad you could make it!” Gabriel called from what sounded like the sitting room. </p><p>“G-Gabriel,” Aziraphale said, making his way through the flat. “Um. You– you’re home early, darling.” </p><p>“So I am,” Gabriel said, standing up slowly from the pure white sofa and striding over to Aziraphale. “How was your day?” </p><p>Aziraphale blinked. It was extraordinarily rare that Gabriel asked him about… well, about anything, really. “It, um. It was– was fairly boring, really. Not much interesting happening at the bookshop.” </p><p>“Really,” Gabriel said, his voice flat. </p><p>Aziraphale’s blood ran cold. “I-I–” </p><p>“When was the last time you saw that Crowley?” Gabriel asked. </p><p>“T-today,” Aziraphale said quickly– it was always worse to lie when Gabriel got like this. “He– he dropped by for lunch this afternoon.” </p><p>“Oh, so <i>that’s</i> why the new diet isn’t working,” Gabriel said. “Well. Obviously, that needs to stop. I thought I told you that you didn’t need lunches.” </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale breathed, cringing back slightly. “I’m sorry, Gabriel.” </p><p>Gabriel caught his arm, gripping it so tightly that it hurt, and Aziraphale sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes darting up to meet Gabriel’s, just for a moment. </p><p>“Lucky for you,” Gabriel said, “we have… more pressing concerns. What is Lucian Sterling doing in Soho?” </p><p>Aziraphale froze. He… he couldn’t tell Gabriel. Not about this. Crowley had mentioned that he was important in this operation, and he’d looked so very frightened when he talked about the call from Beez– </p><p>“Aziraphale,” Gabriel growled, squeezing Aziraphale’s arm tighter, and Aziraphale gasped. </p><p>“I don’t know!” he said quickly. “I don’t know, Gabriel, I’m sorry, I’m–” </p><p>Gabriel shoved Aziraphale back, and he stumbled, his back slamming into the wall behind him. </p><p>“I swear, I don’t know,” Aziraphale said desperately. “I’m sorry, Gabriel, <i>please</i>–” </p><p>“You’re a fucking liar, Aziraphale,” Gabriel snapped, shoving Aziraphale’s shoulder to pin him more fully against the wall. “That Serpent told you something about it, didn’t he? Don’t tell me you’re trying to <i>protect</i> him, now.” </p><p>“I-I’m not!” Aziraphale stammered, his heart hammering in his chest. “I’m not, I swear! He– ah!” </p><p>Gabriel cut him off with a punch to his stomach, fast enough that Aziraphale couldn’t brace against it, and with the hand on his shoulder, he couldn’t curl in to try and ease the pain, either. </p><p>“You useless idiot,” Gabriel snarled. “When is Sterling making his move in Soho?” </p><p>“Tuesday,” Aziraphale gasped, still struggling to catch his breath. “He’s moving on Tuesday at noon. But– but Crowley isn’t involved, he isn’t, Gabriel, <i>please</i>!” </p><p>“So you <i>are</i> protecting him,” Gabriel said, his voice dripping with disgust. “I knew this job was too much for you. Always so soft and pathetic. I knew you just couldn’t take it.” </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale said, his voice quiet. “I’m sorry, Gabriel.” </p><p>“Sorry just doesn’t cut it,” Gabriel said. “Well. That settles it, doesn’t it? You need to get rid of him.” </p><p>Aziraphale’s blood ran cold, and he looked up, meeting Gabriel’s merciless violet eyes. “G-get rid of him?” </p><p>“Oh, don’t worry, I’m not gonna make you be the one to kill him,” said Gabriel, rolling his eyes. “I’m pretty sure that Sterling will take care of that himself when he fails. No, I want you to break off your little… friendship. Whatever you have going on with him. Make it clear that you’re never going to see him again.” </p><p>“Wh-what?” Aziraphale asked. Lucian would– Crowley– break it off? “I– I– I don’t–” </p><p>“We’re stopping that Serpent’s little plan,” Gabriel said. “I’ll let you see him one more time, tomorrow, to tell him to stay away from what’s <i>mine</i>.” He leaned in closer, his voice dropping low. “After that, if I ever see him <i>near</i> you again, you will pay for every goddamn minute of it. Am I clear?” </p><p>Aziraphale nodded desperately. “Y-yes. Yes. Gabriel, <i>please</i>…” </p><p>Gabriel pressed closer for just a moment, then stepped back, straightening his cuffs casually. </p><p>Aziraphale remained where he was, pressed against the wall, and sucked in a shaky, hesitant breath. </p><p>“Oh, sunshine,” Gabriel said, his voice softening suddenly, and he stepped forwards, making to wrap Aziraphale up in his arms. </p><p>It felt wrong. It felt awful and suffocating and <i>wrong</i>, and Aziraphale shuffled sideways, just out of Gabriel’s grip. </p><p>“Sunshine?” Gabriel said, his voice low. </p><p>“Please… please don’t,” Aziraphale said quietly. “Please don’t touch me right now.” </p><p>Gabriel froze, and Aziraphale knew instantly that he had made a mistake. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I’m sorry, Gabriel, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean–” </p><p>Aziraphale cried out as Gabriel slapped him across the face, hard enough to knock him to the side. Gabriel didn’t let him stumble away, grabbing onto his arm and using to drag him in close, one hand flying to his neck to hold him in place. </p><p>“You ungrateful little <i>brat</i>,” Gabriel snarled. “I am the only reason that you’re not dead in the fucking gutter somewhere, and this is how you repay me?” </p><p>Aziraphale whimpered, his free hand flying up almost against his will to scrabble at Gabriel’s, to try and lessen the pressure on his throat. “Gabriel, please–!” </p><p>“Shut up,” Gabriel snarled, slamming him back against the wall, both of his hands tightening, and spots danced in front of Aziraphale’s eyes. He couldn’t see. His heart was hammering, pounding, drowning out all sound. He couldn’t breathe. Gabriel was still growling in his ear, spitting some litany of insults, and he wasn’t letting go. The spots in front of Aziraphale’s eyes were growing. His chest was beginning to hurt. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe– </p><p>All at once, Gabriel stepped back, throwing Aziraphale to the ground, and Aziraphale gasped desperately for air, barely managing to catch himself before his head hit the cold marble floor. </p><p>“Tomorrow, you will tell that God-damned Serpent to fuck off,” Gabriel said, his voice cold. “And then, maybe, you’ll be able to work towards your forgiveness. Are we clear?” </p><p>Aziraphale nodded shakily. </p><p>Gabriel reached down and grabbed Aziraphale’s chin, wrenching his head up. </p><p>“Are. We. Clear?” he asked again, his eyes boring into Aziraphale’s. </p><p>“Y-yes,” Aziraphale breathed. “Yes.” </p><p>Gabriel let him fall once more, and Aziraphale bit back a whimper at the change of position, at the pain from his stomach and his arm and his shoulder and his <i>throat</i>, oh. </p><p>Gabriel’s footsteps receded, polished shoes clicking on even more polished floor. </p><p>Aziraphale stayed where he was, trying desperately to catch his breath, to force back the aches that were accumulating. He could practically feel the bruise blossoming on his neck, and it was all he could do to hope that he could cover it for tomorrow. </p><p>Tomorrow… </p><p>He needed to convince Crowley to leave. Perhaps, if Crowley left, if he ran far enough away, then Lucian would decide that it wasn’t worth the effort to chase after him. It was a bit of a wild hope, really, but Crowley was wily, and fast, and brilliant. He could stay ahead of Lucian, stay <i>safe</i>. And as for Aziraphale... </p><p>“Hey, sunshine!” Gabriel called. “I’m hungry, what’s for dinner?” </p><p>Aziraphale took one more breath, then dragged himself upright, blinking away yet more spots in front of his eyes and wincing. Hitting the floor as he had seemed to have irritated his hip, on top of everything else, and if he dallied too long he was liable to set Gabriel off again. </p><p>Tomorrow. He would see Crowley tomorrow. He would find some way to protect the man he loved. Crowley would be all right. And, really, that was what mattered, in the end. </p><p>### </p><p>Crowley came by the shop at noon exactly, waltzing in with all of his usual swagger and calling out, “Hey, angel! Where d’you feel like for lunch today?” </p><p>Aziraphale felt as though the floor had dropped out from beneath him. </p><p>“Ah, um,” Aziraphale said, “I, um. I’m not– not particularly hungry today, my–” He cut himself off. He was supposed to… he wasn’t meant to be calling Crowley “dear” anymore. </p><p>Crowley frowned, coming closer, and even through the glasses Aziraphale could see his eyes rove over Aziraphale’s face and land, as he knew they would, on his neck. </p><p>“Bloody hell, angel, what happened?” Crowley asked, crossing the last of the distance between them in an instant, his hands fluttering up towards bruises before stopping halfway there. </p><p>Aziraphale turned away, feeling his face flush. “It’s nothing, Crowley. Nothing for you to be concerned about.” </p><p>“Nothing for– it looks like ssomeone tried to bloody strangle you!” Crowley hissed. “It was Gabriel, wasn’t it? That fucking basstard, I ssssswear, the next time I see him–” </p><p>“Crowley, stop!” Aziraphale said, hating the way his voice broke, hating the tears that sprung to his eyes and the hammering of his heart, hating himself for what he was about to do. </p><p>“Aziraphale…” </p><p>“Crowley, you need to leave,” Aziraphale said, trying to sound as firm as he could. “Please, just… just go.” </p><p>“I’m not about to leave you alone with <i>him</i>,” Crowley said, reaching for Aziraphale’s hand. “C’mon, angel, we need to get you out of here.” </p><p>“How exactly do you plan to do that?” Aziraphale snapped, jerking his hand away and taking a few steps back. “Gabriel owns half of London, and Lucian owns the other half. There isn’t anywhere to <i>go</i>.” </p><p>“It’s a big world out there,” Crowley said, gesturing behind himself. “They can’t search all of it. We could go off together.” </p><p>And that, oh, that nearly bowled Aziraphale over, and he breathed, “Go off… together?” </p><p>It sounded… it sounded wonderful, to be honest. Just him and Crowley against the world… </p><p>But then, if Aziraphale left, Gabriel would never let them be. Aziraphale knew that, knew it down to his very bones. The only way that Crowley stood a chance was if he left by himself, and the only way for that to happen was if he was angry enough at Aziraphale to leave him behind. </p><p>Aziraphale forced himself to scoff, to speak through the burning pain in his chest. “Listen to yourself.” </p><p>“How long have we been friends, now?” Crowley asked. </p><p>“Friends? We’re not friends!” Aziraphale said, lying through his teeth, desperate and hopeless and on the verge of tears. “We have nothing whatsoever in common! I don’t even <i>like</i> you!” </p><p>“You <i>do</i>,” Crowley protested, and he was right, he was <i>right</i>. </p><p>“Even if I could go with you, I wouldn’t! We’re on opposite sides!” Aziraphale cried. </p><p>“We’re on <i>our</i> side,” Crowley hissed, stepping closer. </p><p>Aziraphale forced the words out, fighting every instinct he possessed to do so. “There is no ‘our side’, Crowley. Not anymore. It’s over.” </p><p>Crowley froze, his eyes going wide. </p><p>“Angel…” he breathed, his voice soft. </p><p>“Go,” Aziraphale said, turning away to hide the way his tears were beginning to fall. <i>Please, run. Get away from London. Get away from Gabriel and Lucian and me and all of it. Please, just</i> go. </p><p>“Right,” Crowley said, backing away slowly. “Well, then. Ngh.” </p><p>Aziraphale couldn’t stop himself from turning, then, couldn’t stop himself from watching Crowley as he backed away, turned away, walked to the door. </p><p>At the last second, his hand on the knob, Crowley looked back one last time and said, in a voice low and thick with something Aziraphale couldn’t identify, “See you around, Aziraphale.” </p><p>And then he was gone, the door swinging shut behind him, and Aziraphale was alone once more. </p><p>Or, rather… </p><p>“Good job, <i>angel</i>.” Gabriel’s voice was low and sardonic as he emerged from the back room, clapping sarcastically. “What a performance. Now, remember: if I ever see him near here again, you won’t be the only one paying the price.” He bent down, pressed a quick kiss to Aziraphale’s lips, and then was gone, letting the door slam shut behind him. </p><p>Aziraphale squeezed his eyes shut, balling his hands into fists by his sides. </p><p><i>This is good</i>, he thought desperately. <i>Crowley should hate me, which will keep him safe. I can still be here for Warlock on Wednesday. Everything will be all right. </i></p><p><i>It has to be.</i>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I’ll have the next chapter up as soon as I can</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Tuesday At Noon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I’m sorry for the kind of slow updates, life is kinda kicking my ass right now, and it’s hard to find the time to write. This one is super short, I’m sorry, but the good news is that the next chapter is gonna have our first taste of some comfort, so y’all have that to look forward to!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Crowley had been sitting on the sofa watching Golden Girls reruns for what had to have been at least six hours now. That was following a rather lost, confused drive home yesterday, a very long screaming session with his plants, a twelve-hour-long mid-afternoon nap, what was meant to be far-too-fast drive through the countryside and ended up just being far longer than he’d ever intended to spend on the M25 (he swore, Hell itself could not think of a worse torture), and then another three-hour nap that would probably have lasted for a full day had Crowley not slept so long before going driving. </p><p>Aziraphale’s words kept echoing in Crowley’s head, superimposed with the image of those bloody bruises on his neck. They’d been mostly hidden by his collar, but there had been enough there to make out the shape of fingers, enough to set his blood boiling. </p><p>Something was wrong. Something was really, really wrong, even more wrong than usual, and Aziraphale… Aziraphale seemed <i>terrified</i>. </p><p>Or, well. More terrified than usual, which was actually a pretty damn high bar to clear. And that only served to make Crowley, in turn, even more nervous. </p><p>Tomorrow was still Warlock’s birthday party, yeah? And Aziraphale had asked him to be there. The kid relied on them both, Crowley knew, so if he… if he just gave Aziraphale a day and apologised for whatever it was that he’d done, maybe they could… they could work it out. If being forced to literally spy on each other hadn’t ruined their friendship, then this couldn’t, either. </p><p>Could it? </p><p>Crowley groaned loudly and chucked the nearest throw pillow across the room, where it joined the small pile that had accumulated from the four other times so far today that his thoughts had gone down that particular path. </p><p>He couldn’t lose Aziraphale. Couldn’t handle it. And he absolutely <i>refused</i> to just… just stand by and do nothing while Gabriel <i>hurt</i> Aziraphale. That was utterly, entirely unacceptable. </p><p>There was a part of Crowley– a small and quiet part, but a part nonetheless– that didn’t understand why Aziraphale hadn’t just <i>gone</i> with him. Why he’d refused, even with those <i>bloody</i> bruises, even with the way his whole face had softened as he’d repeated Crowley’s offer back to him. Why couldn’t they just go off together? If they ran fast enough, they could stay ahead of Gabriel and Lucian. Of course, Crowley would need to do a little research, first, a little planning, but he knew he’d be more than willing to do whatever it took. He’d do anything to protect Aziraphale, to keep him safe, to have him close, to hold him, to kiss him… </p><p>Crowley jerked himself out of that train of thought as viciously as possible. He knew how he felt for Aziraphale, even if he absolutely refused to put a name to it, but he… wasn’t entirely sure how Aziraphale felt. </p><p><i>He gave you the key,</i> a voice whispered in Crowley’a head. <i>He looked at you like you hung the stars. He smiled at you, he laughed with you, he called you kind and good and dear and said he cared too much to lose you.</i> </p><p>But another, darker voice breathed back, <i>He also kicked you out. Said you weren’t even friends. Said you were on opposite sides, had nothing in common, that he didn’t even </i>like<i> you. There’s no ignoring that. </i></p><p><i>He was terrified,</i> the first voice said. <i>You know that full well. And he also said “it’s over”, which, well. For something to end, it had to be there to start with, didn’t it?</i> </p><p>The darker voice didn’t seem to have anything to say to that, and Crowley harrumphed triumphantly at winning the argument with himself. </p><p>Then his mobile, lying on the desk in his office, began to ring. </p><p>There were exactly three people on Earth who knew his mobile number: Aziraphale, Lucian, and Beez. Not answering the second two was likely to be more than a little painful, and not answering the first was utterly unthinkable. </p><p>When the phone rang again, Crowley very nearly launched himself towards it, picking up and trying desperately to sound as casual as possible. “Hey, there.” </p><p>“It’zz noon,” Beez buzzed down the line. It sounded like ze was sitting in a dumpster somewhere, based on the sheer number of flies Crowley could hear in the background, although maybe that was just Beez’s shitty mobile. </p><p>“Got it,” Crowley said, not entirely getting it. </p><p>“If this strike fails, Crowley, it iz on your head,” ze continued. </p><p>Crowley’s stomach plummeted. The move into Soho. That was today. That was <i>now</i>. Aziraphale was– </p><p>Well. Hopefully, Aziraphale was at home. They had talked about it, and Aziraphale was clever. He had to know the risk, if Lucian discovered him. He would be safe. Right? </p><p>“It’s all gonna be fine,” Crowley said to Beez, digging his mobile out of his pocket and quickly checking the signal. His plan seemed to be working, at least so far, and so long as Aziraphale was far away… </p><p>“It had better be,” Beez said darkly. Then there was a click as ze hung up. </p><p>Crowley set the phone down, chewing on his lip. He’d completely forgotten… </p><p>Well. There was nothing much he could do about any of it now. And it’s not like Aziraphale would want to see him, anyways, even if it was just to check in. </p><p>With a heavy sigh, Crowley made his way back over to the sofa, plopped down onto it, and resumed his marathon. Six more hours wasn’t that long, was it? </p><p>### </p><p>Aziraphale couldn’t sit still. Everything hurt– Gabriel had seen fit to spend quite some time “reminding him of his place” again last night, with a particular focus on Aziraphale’s already-spotty leg– and there was an ache of nerves and guilt in his chest that wouldn’t quiet. </p><p>He was in his shop, sitting somewhat awkwardly in his favourite armchair, his ears pricked for any hint of commotion outside. It was ten past noon– things were sure to be afoot. </p><p>It was quiet outside. Rather disturbingly quiet, actually. The typical noises of London had faded, and the usual press of people outside his door seemed to have vanished. There hadn’t been a single customer all morning, which, to be sure, Aziraphale was rather grateful for, but it was more than a little unusual, and it had left Aziraphale feeling rather wrong-footed. Add to that the complete lack of automobile traffic, and, well.</p><p>There was no telling whether this disturbance was thanks to Gabriel or Lucian, but Aziraphale supposed it hardly mattered either way. If Gabriel won, he might pull Aziraphale from his shop in order to keep him from embarrassing Gabriel somehow; if Lucian won, Gabriel would likely pull Aziraphale from his shop in order to “protect” him. Either way, Aziraphale knew that he was likely to lose his life’s work sooner rather than later, and that his very last chance to see Crowley had ended in cruel words he hadn’t meant and Crowley’s heartbroken expression. </p><p>Oh, how Aziraphale hoped that he had fled, like he’d said he would. If Crowley was hurt… he remembered the bruise on Crowley’s cheek just a week ago (was it only? Lord, it felt far longer), remembered how they had <i>met</i> in the first place, remembered how he had met the man in the first place, remembered Crowley’s words, the same thing in different tones more than once. <i>”Half of London wants me dead.”</i> </p><p><i>Please, oh, please,</i> Aziraphale prayed, for the first time in nearly a decade and a half, <i>just keep him safe. Whatever else may happen, keep Crowley safe. That… that would be enough. That would make this all worth it. </i></p><p><i>Please, let him be safe.</i> </p><p>### </p><p>Crowley’s phone didn’t ring again until quarter past three, and this time, it was his home phone. </p><p>He let it ring, expecting a telemarketer, but when the answerphone picked up, the voice made his blood run cold. </p><p>“Crowley, Crowley, Crowley,” Hastur drawled. “Your little plans have finally fallen through. Don’t bother to run. There’s nowhere for you to hide. We will find you. And I know Ligur’s excited to see you again.” </p><p>The phone clicked as Hastur hung up, and Crowley stood frozen next to the desk, his heart hammering in his ears. </p><p>Fuck. </p><p>Crowley had only pissed Lucian off this badly once before, and he’d barely managed to talk his way out of it. If he was already sending Hastur and Ligur… </p><p>This was bad. This was really, really bad. </p><p><i>And the worst part of it is that Hastur‘s right,</i> Crowley thought as he darted around his flat, grabbing a duffel bag from his closet and throwing some outfits, cash he’d stored away, and other odds and ends into it. <i>There’s nowhere for me to go. They’ll be looking for me. Lucian knows all of my usual spots. If I step foot outside, he’ll be after me. I have nothing and no one–</i> </p><p>Then he stopped, his hand hovering over his keys, his boots only half-on and his mind racing. </p><p>Maybe, just maybe, there was still one place he could escape to. </p><p>Moving again, as quickly as he could in the hopes of dodging any surveillance Lucian might have been planning to put him under, Crowley darted out of his flat and down the stairs, using the building’s service exit. It was raining outside, because of course it was, when was it not in London, and he wasn’t looking forward to having to navigate in the wet. </p><p><i>Main roads</i>, he thought, darting out onto the pavement and inserting himself firmly into the middle of what looked like a soaked-through and very lost tour group, carting along their suitcases. <i>Less likely for anyone to try something. Easier to lose a tail.</i></p><p>As he walked along, playing the hapless tourist as convincingly as he could, he passed the Bentley, gleaming proudly next to the kerb, and it took everything in him not to dart over to her and take off. His chest <i>ached</i> to be leaving her there, but he just couldn’t risk it. She was too obvious, too recognisable, and if Lucian tracked him down where he was going, he was absolutely <i>fucked</i>. </p><p>So, despite everything in him screaming to go back, Crowley just shouldered his bag a little more firmly and trudged on, already starting to get soaked and very much dreading the rest of his walk. </p><p>### </p><p>At five minutes to four, the door to the bookshop banged open, and Aziraphale looked up to see Gabriel shaking off his umbrella, heedless of the shelves, tables, and stacks of books surrounding him. </p><p>“Oh,” Aziraphale said, his voice only slightly strangled– protesting Gabriel’s treatment of the books would only end with said books in pieces, Aziraphale knew that too well– as he stepped forwards. “How, um. How was everything?” </p><p>“Shitty,” Gabriel said, stalking forwards, and Aziraphale stumbled back, tripping over one of the stacks and landing hard on his bad hip. </p><p>“I– I’m sorry,” Aziraphale stammered out. “I’m sorry, Gabriel, I–” </p><p>“You’re staying here for the next twenty-four hours,” Gabriel said, looming over Aziraphale, his eyes cold. “I’m locking the door behind me, from the outside. Do <i>not</i> let anyone in. Do not leave. Keep an eye on the situation outside, and if you see any of these people–” he threw a manila envelope down next to Aziraphale’s slightly-heaving chest– “you call me immediately. Am I clear?” </p><p>“Y-yes,” Aziraphale said immediately, his voice shaking as he nodded emphatically. “Yes. Of course.” </p><p>Gabriel looked around the bookshop, sneering slightly. “Maybe you should work on cleaning this disgusting place up a little bit. I don’t want you sleeping, you need to be on high alert until we’ve worked this out. And don’t leave for anything. You have a bathroom and cups here, you’ll be fine.” </p><p>“Yes, Gabriel,” Aziraphale said again, a little more quietly this time. </p><p>Gabriel’s gaze shifted to him once more, piercing, judgemental, and then he stalked away, slamming the shop’s door behind him, and after a moment Aziraphale heard the lock click. </p><p>He lay on the floor for a moment more, breathing through the fresh waves of pain in his hip and the frantic hammering of his heart, before he grabbed onto the folder and began to drag himself upright, leaning rather more than he would have liked to on the shelf beside him. </p><p><i>Pull yourself together,</i> Aziraphale scolded himself as he set the folder on his desk and made his way towards the little kitchenette, not bothering to hide his limp with the doors locked and no one around. <i>He didn’t even touch you this time. You are </i>fine<i>, you idiot. And, he is right, you rather need to do some cleaning.</i> </p><p>Aziraphale sighed, pulling a tin of tea and his kettle down from the cupboard with a heavy sigh. He ought to make himself some tea– it would help to keep him awake. If he missed something tonight, he dreaded to think what Gabriel would– </p><p>There was a sound. A soft, almost hesitant tapping sound, coming from– from the direction of the back door. </p><p>Aziraphale straightened up, setting his tea things down once more and moving slowly closer. There weren’t any windows overlooking the alley, so Aziraphale couldn’t tell who was out there or what they could possibly want. </p><p><i>Someone might be hurt</i>. </p><p>With a sigh, Aziraphale made his way over to the door, unlocking it carefully and pulling it open. </p><p>A man stood there, soaked through from the rain, a duffel bag in one hand and a key in the other, and when he pushed back his hood, Aziraphale couldn’t hide his sharp gasp. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Crowley said, his voice shaking. “I didn’t know where else to go.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you guys so much for reading, and I’ll have the next one out as soon as possible. If you wanted to leave a comment, it would totally make my day!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Happy Birthday, Warlock!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Crowley and Aziraphale talk. Warlock does, too.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So, ah… this one is rough. There is comfort here, like I promised, but this is also where shit really hits the fan. </p><p>Also please note the updated tags, especially the last four– those come in really hard at the end of this chapter, and you can probably guess how so. I’ll put a summary of that scene in the end notes– just stop reading when you get to “Warlock was having a much better birthday than they thought they would”, since it goes through the rest of the chapter. </p><p>Thank you all for reading, please take care of yourselves, and I hope you enjoy!! I’ll have the next chapter up as soon as possible, I promise</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Aziraphale grabbed Crowley’s arm and tugged him inside, out of eyesight and the rain, before locking the door behind him once more. </p><p>“Are you hurt?” he asked, turning to face him. </p><p>“No,” Crowley said, shaking his head. “Nah, I’m okay. They didn’t catch me. Just a bit damp.” </p><p>“Oh, thank goodness,” Aziraphale said, a bit of the tension draining out of him. Crowley was all right. That was what mattered. </p><p>There was silence for a moment, heavy and awkward, and Aziraphale remembered what he’d said the last time they saw each other, how they had parted, and the shame gathered, heavy and sick, in his gut. </p><p>“Crowley–” he began. </p><p>“I’m sorry, ang– Aziraphale,” Crowley said, not even seeming to hear him. “You know I wouldn’t be here if I had any other option. And– and, whatever I did to make you– I’m sorry about that, too, I just don’t know–” </p><p>“You didn’t do anything,” Aziraphale said, hating the sad, defeated look on Crowley’s face, hating that he’d been the one to put it there. “You did nothing wrong, my dear, I was… Gabriel was here. He wanted– and I was hoping that you would leave, if– if you ran off alone you might have been able to–” </p><p>“Gabriel was listening?” Crowley asked, his eyes locking on Aziraphale’s. “That bloody wanker…” </p><p>“Crowley, I didn’t…” Aziraphale bit his lip, wanting Crowley to understand, terrified of what would happen if he did. “I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean a word of it. I’m so sorry, my dear, I–” </p><p>Aziraphale let out a small yelp as Crowley stepped forwards and pulled him into a borderline-crushing hug, and Crowley was still soaked through and shivering and dripping onto the rug, and one of Crowley’s hands was digging into the bruises on Aziraphale’s arm, and Crowley’s bag was half caught between them and soaking Aziraphale’s trousers, and his leg was moments from giving out, and it was, without a doubt, one of the best hugs of Aziraphale’s life. </p><p>“I’m so sorry,” Aziraphale breathed, hugging Crowley back, never wanting to let him go. </p><p>“S’alright,” Crowley mumbled, burying his nose in Aziraphale’s curls. “I get it. It’s not your fault.” </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale said again, pulling Crowley just that little bit closer. </p><p>“M’gonna get you all wet,” Crowley pointed out, making no move to pull away. </p><p>“That hardly matters.” </p><p>“The books–” </p><p>Aziraphale felt something in his chest grow warm. “The books will survive, my dear.” He did pull back, then, just enough to hold onto Crowley’s shoulders, looking him over carefully. His sunglasses were crooked and streaked with rain, and his hair was a dripping mess, but he did seem largely unhurt. </p><p>Of course, Aziraphale knew full well how easy it was to hide an injury. </p><p>“Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked gently. </p><p>“Just a bit chilly,” Crowley said. </p><p>“Of course,” said Aziraphale, stepping away fully and leading Crowley towards the stairs. “There’s a bath in the flat, that ought to warm you up a bit, and it will give your clothes time to dry. You can hang them over the radiator, that should help. I’m afraid I haven’t got any spares of anything here, I never really planned– well. Nor is there much food, though I think I may still have half a tin of biscuits downstairs.” He paused on the landing, turning to face Crowley once more, ignoring the throbbing in his hip from the stairs. “Did anyone see you come in?” </p><p>“Nope,” Crowley said. “Nah, I lost the last bit of my tail when I got into Soho. So they know I’m in the neighbourhood, but not… not here, specifically.” </p><p>“Oh, good,” Aziraphale said, more than a little relieved. “That’s excellent, then. Now, I suppose I ought to leave you to it…” </p><p>“Wait, wait,” Crowley said, catching Aziraphale’s wrist as he made to slip past. “I know I shouldn’t have– I don’t want to get you in trouble.” </p><p>“You won’t,” Aziraphale said. “Gabriel really doesn’t like to come here, and I rather doubt that he even knows about the flat. And– and, well, I’ll be here all night tonight. I’ll make certain that nothing happens.” He cleared his throat, then, rather fighting back a blush. “You can stay here as long as you’d like, my dear. I promise, it will be safe.” </p><p>“Are you sure?” Crowley asked, his voice quiet, and his hand started to lift up, almost as though he was reaching for Aziraphale, before it dropped back down to his side again. “I don’t want you to get hurt.” </p><p><i>It’s rather too late for that.</i> “I’ll be perfectly all right, my dear.” He laid one hand over Crowley’s on his wrist, holding it for just a moment, before lifting him off as gently as he could. “Now, you ought to go warm up before you catch your death.” </p><p>“Catch my death,” Crowley said with a snort. “You sound like my gran.” But he did turn, then, and head deeper into the flat, and Aziraphale watched him go before making his way back downstairs, wincing slightly as he went. </p><p>Whatever had happened earlier today, it had clearly ended with a target on Crowley’s back. Aziraphale knew that Crowley couldn’t stay there forever– that simply wouldn’t be fair to him, having to live in hiding in a dusty old flat above a cramped and crowded bookshop. But for a while, perhaps, for long enough to come up with a plan… </p><p>Crowley was safe for tonight, and they could deal with tomorrow when it came. </p><p>### </p><p>Crowley peeled himself out of his clothes– a tricky enough thing when they weren’t wet and clinging to him– draped them over the radiator in the bathroom, and lowered himself into the bath he’d run, hissing slightly at the heat of it. </p><p>Now that he was here, there was a part of him that regretted it. It was a small part, of course– the rest of him was still either loudly celebrating the fact that Azirpahale didn’t actually hate him or replaying their hug on repeat, the way Aziraphale been so warm, so soft, the tremble in his voice as he’d apologised… </p><p>But then, that was it, wasn’t it? Aziraphale had pushed him away because of Gabriel, and now Crowley was here again, putting him in even more danger. </p><p>But then again, if he left now, without a plan, without anywhere to go, he had absolutely no doubt that Lucian would have him killed. And… and Aziraphale had said that he was staying here tonight. He would be safe for tonight, and they could come up with something together. </p><p>They were together. Aziraphale didn’t hate him. And Crowley, shit, Crowley lo– <i>cared about</i> Aziraphale more than anything. So long as they had that, they’d make it through. </p><p>The bath was warm and the tub was actually long enough for Crowley to lie in, which was a welcome surprise, so it took him a rather long time to work up the will to get out. </p><p>When he finally did, he found Aziraphale downstairs, one cup of tea in his hand and another on the coffee table. </p><p>“I, um. I made you some as well, dear, but of course you’re under no obligation…” </p><p>“Tea sounds good,” Crowley said, draping himself across the sofa as per usual and picking up the mug. “God, it feels like it’s been forever since I’ve been here after hours.” </p><p>“I don’t believe we’ve done anything like this since we met Warlock,” Aziraphale said, smiling slightly. “I have to admit, I’ve rather missed it.” </p><p>“Me too, angel,” Crowley said, grinning and taking a sip of the tea– he wasn’t a huge fan, but Aziraphale had made it, so he was more than happy to drink, and it helped that it was pretty good as far as tea went. “Shit, the last few weeks have lasted… what, six thousand years?” </p><p>Aziraphale laughed. “Something like that.” </p><p>It was easy, then, so easy, to slip back into their comfortable banter. To go back to teasing and joking and talking about everything and nothing and, for minutes at a time, to sit in silence together, sipping on tea or munching the last handful of biscuits, just basking in one another’s presence. </p><p>Then the shop phone rang, cutting through one of those still, silent moments like a bloody knife, and Crowley jumped, stifling a yelp. </p><p>“Oh, I’m sorry!” Aziraphale said, setting his teacup down and getting up. “I’m so sorry, dear, I’ll just get that.” </p><p>He crossed to the phone, over near the door to the front of the shop, and it… it looked like he was limping. </p><p>“A. Z. Fell and Co., I’m afraid we’re quite– Gabriel.” </p><p>Crowley froze, his breath catching in his throat, as Aziraphale’s eyes met his. </p><p>“No,” Aziraphale said, “you know the shop phone doesn’t have caller– I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’ll– yes. Yes, of course… I understand. Yes. I–I won’t, you know I– I’m sorry. Yes. Four o’clock. Of course. I’ll see you then.” </p><p>He hung up, then leaned heavily against the table with the phone on it. </p><p>“Four o’clock?” Crowley asked. </p><p>“Gabriel’s coming to pick me up at four o’clock tomorrow afternoon,” Aziraphale said softly. “I, um. I’m not permitted to leave the shop until then, I’m afraid.” </p><p>“Not permit– you don’t have any food in here!” Crowley protested. </p><p>Aziraphale winced, laying a hand over his stomach. “Well, it’s hardly as though I need it.” </p><p>“That– that’s bullshit. That’s bloody bullshit, angel, you know it is,” Crowley said, standing up so he could move closer to Aziraphale. </p><p>“I’ll be quite all right,” Aziraphale said softly, pushing himself up off of the table with another wince. “I, oh, I’m more worried for you, dear. It probably isn’t safe for you to go out, either, and I would hate for you to go hungry–“ </p><p>“No, wait, hang on,” Crowley said, catching onto Aziraphale’s arm as he passed. “We’re not just going to– angel?” </p><p>As Crowley made to spin Aziraphale around to face him, Aziraphale let out a small sound, pulling his arm free and stumbling to the right before catching himself on a bookshelf. </p><p>“What’s wrong?” Crowley asked, suddenly remembering the alley and hating himself, just a little bit, for grabbing Aziraphale so much that evening without warning. </p><p>“Nothing,” Aziraphale said, pushing himself upright once more and taking a deep breath. “Nothing is wrong, my dear, I’m–” </p><p>“You’re hurt,” Crowley said, eyeing Aziraphale’s leg, the way he was leaning to his left, the tension in his shoulders and jaw. “Your leg–” </p><p>“Crowley, it is nothing for you to be concerned about,” Aziraphale interrupted, his voice low and shaking ever so slightly. “I’m quite all right.” </p><p>“What happened?” Crowley asked, taking a few steps closer. “What– how–” His eyes landed on the bruises ringing Aziraphale’s throat, faded and yellowing but still there, still proof. “Gabriel.” </p><p>Aziraphale winced. “To– to be fair, the leg– it’s not entirely his fault. I did trip, earlier, and that, ah, that certainly didn’t help matters.” </p><p>“Aziraphale, you– he– what is he doing to you? Why– how–” </p><p>“I’m all right, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, his voice soft. “Please don’t– don’t trouble yourself over me.” </p><p>“Too late,” Crowley said bluntly, crossing the rest of the distance between them. “I know he’s hurting you, angel. I know you’re terrified of him. Please, <i>please</i>, just talk to me.” </p><p>“I can’t,” Aziraphale said, his voice even quieter. “Crowley, I– you’re going to try to tell me to leave him, <i>everyone</i> has, and I just… it’s not that simple, I can’t just– I’ve told you, I have nothing without him. I was– I never even went to university, I’m not– I can’t– I have nothing of my own, I don’t own anything, I can’t even– Crowley, I cannot go back to what I was, before he found me.” Aziraphale’s voice broke there, but pushed on. “Gabriel is… he’s not… but he saved my life. I owe him everything, he– I‘m nothing without him.” </p><p>Crowley thought he could hear the sound of his heart bloody breaking at the sight of the tears glittering in Aziraphale’s eyes, steadfastly refusing to fall. He reached out, as carefully as he could in his near-desperation to offer some sort of comfort, and took both of Aziraphale’s hands, squeezing them gently and running a careful thumb over the backs of his knuckles. “Aziraphale, angel, no. Listen to me. You don’t owe him a damn thing, not now, not then, not ever.” </p><p>“He... he saved…” </p><p>“It doesn’t matter if he ‘saved’ you back then,” Crowley said, shaking his head. “He‘s hurting you right now. You don’t owe him a fucking thing, and you– shit, Aziraphale, you’re so much more than him and what he’s done.” </p><p>“You didn’t know me then,” Aziraphale said. “Before the bookshop, before Gabriel.” </p><p>“No,” Crowley said. “I didn’t. But I know you <i>now</i>. And… fuck, angel, you’re <i>everything</i>. You deserve better, better than being hurt and controlled and degraded, better than bloody Gabriel. You… shit, Aziraphale…” </p><p>“Even if that were true,” Aziraphale said softly, “there’s nowhere for me to go. Gabriel… I know you don’t want to hear it, but in essence, Gabriel <i>owns</i> me, Crowley. There’s nowhere I could go where he wouldn’t find me.” </p><p>“That’s not true,” said Crowley, shaking his head firmly. “Gabriel is rich and powerful, yeah, but he’s not <i>supernatural</i>. There are places where we could be safe.” </p><p>“He would never give up,” Aziraphale said softly, squeezing his eyes shut. </p><p>“Eventually–” </p><p>“Are you hearing me?” Aziraphale interrupted, shaking his head. “He would never give up. There is <i>nothing</i>–” </p><p>“That’s not true,” Crowley said, his voice bordering on desperate. “It isn’t, Aziraphale, he can’t–” </p><p>“Do you know how I found out about what Gabriel did?” Aziraphale asked suddenly, his grip on Crowley’s hands tightening as he straightened up somewhat, still leaning on his left leg but no longer balancing against the bookshelf. “I left, Crowley. Seven years ago. I had finally had enough, and I tried to leave. I went to the police– I had photos of bruises, and audio recordings of several fights we’d had. But they didn’t do anything to help me. Instead, they called Gabriel to come pick me up.” Aziraphale opened his eyes, and they were shining with tears, the grey-blue of them stormy and scared. “I was stupid, then, and naïve, and… and once I could walk– that took a couple of days, he was rather annoyed with me– I tried to leave again. I assumed that it was simply that the police didn’t care. So I left. Walked out of Gabriel’s flat and hid at an acquaintance’s– her name was Tracy, and she was a wonderful woman, she used to work just next door to the bookshop.” Aziraphale took a deep breath, then forged on. “It took Gabriel all of two hours to find me, Crowley. He sent some of his direct employees to pick me up, alongside the officer I’d spoken to the week before. I do believe I nearly died that day. He didn’t hurt Tracy, but only because I promised to take her punishment for her, and I haven’t seen her since that day.” Aziraphale shook his head, his voice breaking. “I can’t go through that again. Whatever you may say on the matter, Gabriel controls me. He wouldn’t give up. And I can’t… I <i>can’t</i>…” </p><p>“Angel,” Crowley breathed, and if he thought he’d been heartbroken before, fuck, he hadn’t known the meaning of the word. “Angel, I… I am so sorry. I… I had no idea…” </p><p>“It isn’t your fault,” Aziraphale said, pulling one of his hands free to wipe at his eyes. “I try not to think about it, and it works most of the time.” He gave Crowley a rather watery smile, squeezing the hand he was still holding. “Don’t fret, dear. It hasn’t been nearly so bad since then. I… I believe he felt rather bad about what happened, and I haven’t… he’s rather kinder now than he used to be. Really, it isn’t so bad.” </p><p>“Not so bad,” Crowley echoed, disbelieving. “Angel, the other day he choked you so hard he left bruises, and whatever he did today, you can’t even bloody stand on your right leg! Just because he isn’t trying to <i>kill</i> you doesn’t make it ‘not so bad’!” </p><p>“What would you have me do, then?” Aziraphale asked. </p><p>“Come with me,” Crowley pleaded. “I have the start of a plan. I have connections, angel, I can keep you safe–” </p><p>“Lucian is already after you, my dear. You’ve said it yourself, half of London wants you dead. I won’t set Gabriel on your tail on top of that.” </p><p>“I can keep ahead of that pair of idiots,” Crowley said. “I’m the only bloody reason Lucian’s whole operation functioned at all, the rest of his people are idiots, and none of Gabriel’s are any better, honestly. We could keep ahead of them, I know we could.” </p><p>“Crowley…” </p><p>“We could do it,” Crowley said. “Just you and me, angel. We could travel the world, do anything, be anything–” </p><p>“Crowley, <i>please</i>,” Aziraphale said, his voice a broken sob, as the first tear trailed down his cheek. “Please, stop. I can’t. You know I can’t.” </p><p>Crowley felt his stomach drop out of his body. Crying. Aziraphale didn’t bloody cry. Not ever. And seeing it now, knowing that he’d caused it… </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Crowley said, his hand reaching up before he could stop himself to wipe that tear away, to cup Aziraphale’s warm, soft cheek in his hand as he took a step closer. </p><p>“Crowley,” Aziraphale breathed again, and then he was reaching out, pulling Crowley into a hug, holding him close, and Crowley hugged him back, as carefully as he could– he didn’t want to cause more pain, didn’t want to squeeze anything he shouldn’t, didn’t want to be the cause of even the barest second of suffering for Aziraphale, especially not after everything he’d gone through. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale said, his voice shaking as he clutched at Crowley’s shirt. “I’m sorry I can’t– can’t be what you want me to be–” </p><p>“I want you to be yourself,” Crowley said as he risked squeezing Aziraphale a little closer and was rewarded when Aziraphale buried his face in his neck with a soft whimper. “Yourself, and safe. That’s it, angel, I just want you safe…” </p><p>“I want you to be safe, too,” Aziraphale said, his voice slightly muffled by Crowley’s shirt. “I… I’m sorry…” </p><p>“Don’t be,” said Crowley, shaking his head slightly and jostling them both with it. “Don’t be sorry. It isn’t your fault. <i>None</i> of it is your fault.” </p><p>Aziraphale whimpered again, pressing himself closer, and Crowley just held him, running a soothing hand up and down his back. </p><p>They stood there for a long, long moment, Crowley blinking back his own tears and Aziraphale shaking against him, until Aziraphale said quietly, “I, um. I hate to interrupt this, believe me, but... I-I’m not entirely sure how much longer my leg will be able to take my weight…” </p><p>“Shit, yeah, of course,” Crowley said, drawing back in order to take Aziraphale’s hand again and help him over to the sofa. “C’mon, let’s go sit down. Can I…?” </p><p>“I’m all right, dear,” Aziraphale said, sinking down into the cushions and letting go of Crowley’s hand as he did. “Really.” </p><p>Crowley frowned at that, but didn’t push, instead flopping back down onto the sofa beside Aziraphale and sprawling out in his best approximation of a relaxed posture. “Right. Well. No need to let that wanker ruin our night, yeah? What were we talking about?” </p><p>He knew he’d made the right call by the way some of that terrible tension melted out of Aziraphale’s body, the warm smile that spread across his face, the softness in his angel’s voice as he began to talk once more. </p><p>It took another couple of hours before Crowley couldn’t hide his yawns anymore. </p><p>“Oh, my dear,” Aziraphale said, after Crowley’s rant about ducks was interrupted for the third time, “you look utterly exhausted. Please don’t keep yourself up for my sake.” </p><p>“M’not gonna steal your bed, angel,” Crowley said, shaking his head. </p><p>“You wouldn’t be. Besides, if you’re to spend any amount of time here, I simply won’t hear of you spending it all sleeping on the sofa.” </p><p>Crowley blinked. “You… don’t mind? After all that…” </p><p>“You can stay as long as you‘d like,” Aziraphale said softly. “I meant that entirely.” </p><p>“Angel…” </p><p>“Off to bed with you, now,” Aziraphale said, standing up and taking the long-empty teacup from his rather slack grip before making his way to the kitchen. His limp was significantly less pronounced than it had been earlier, and Crowley couldn’t help but he reassured by that. </p><p>“All right, fine,” Crowley grumbled half-heartedly. “Bloody guardian angels. Never lay off, do you?” </p><p>“Well, if you didn’t need it quite so direly,” Aziraphale quipped over his shoulder, starting the washing-up.” </p><p>Crowley laughed, the worried ache in his chest settling. “Night, angel.” </p><p>“Good-night, my dear,” Aziraphale replied, and Crowley made his way upstairs. The bed was soft, and warm, and the sheets were surprisingly silky and modern given… well, literally everything else about the place. Crowley let out a quiet groan, his head dropping to the pillow, and was out in minutes. </p><p>### </p><p>It was just about half past five a.m. when a loud <i>thud</i> from downstairs jerked Crowley awake. </p><p>He leapt up, wavering with the disorientation of waking up in a new place, before he remembered where he was– and who else was here. </p><p>“Shit,” he hissed, and took off downstairs, not daring to call out in case the noise had been Gabriel, in case involvement would put his angel in more danger. </p><p>When he got to the back room, he found Aziraphale slumped on the sofa, a book lying open on the floor beside him and a manila folder in his lap. </p><p>“… Angel?” Crowley breathed, creeping closer. </p><p>Aziraphale stirred, his face twisting. “M’sorry.” </p><p>“Don’t be,” Crowley breathed, crossing the rest of the distance to him. “Go back to sleep.” </p><p>He glanced down at the folder. In it were photos, pictures of some of Lucian’s operatives– Crowley recognised Beez and Dagon, Hastur and Ligur, Eric, Erik, and Erick, a couple of others. </p><p>"Can't sleep," Aziraphale mumbled, shaking his head. He still hadn't opened his eyes. "Need to keep watch..." </p><p><i>Bloody bastard of a boyfriend. That's why he let you stay here, isn't it?</i> “I can keep an eye out, angel. You just get some rest. All right?” </p><p>Aziraphale frowned slightly, but his body was relaxing again, his head dropping slowly onto the armrest, the folder beginning to slide off his lap– that was probably what had happened to the book, too, come to think of it. Hence the thud. </p><p>“Wake me up soon,” Aziraphale murmured. “Not long.” </p><p>“Of course,” Crowley said, carefully pulling the folder off of Aziraphale’s lap and setting it aside. He picked the book up, too, and placed it atop one of the nearby stacks– Aziraphale could sort out where it belonged when he woke up. </p><p>Crowley almost turned to leave, then, to go see if he could scrounge up a tolerable cup of coffee between the kitchen upstairs and the one down here, when he caught sight of the way Aziraphale was lying, twisted and leaning in a way that couldn’t be comfortable. </p><p>With a small sigh, Crowley turned back and, carefully, as carefully as he could, lifted Aziraphale’s legs up onto the sofa properly. He had already taken off his coat, thankfully, but there wasn’t much to be done about the waistcoat and trousers, which would be wrinkled as all get-out in the morning, so Crowley left them be, instead just pulling off his antique loafers and setting them aside. There was a little throw blanket tossed over the back of the sofa– Crowley recognised it as the one Aziraphale had given to Warlock the night they’d met them– and Crowley pulled it down and gently laid it over Aziraphale, tucking him in as best he could, before he straightened up again. </p><p>Crowley realised then, looking down at the sleeping form before him, that he’d never once seen Aziraphale truly relax. There was always a tension to him, a straightness to his spine, a furrow to his brow, a constant fretting in his hands, even when he was drunk or laughing or reading. But asleep, all of that was gone. Crowley could see the lines in his face, now, the shadows cast by the grey light of the sky just before dawn and filtered through the rain and the thick, frosted windows, but despite that, somehow, Aziraphale looked years younger. Faintly, Crowley wondered if he had ever looked this young while awake, even before Gabriel, before going off to war, before everything that had happened to him. Did Aziraphale ever believe that the world was good, in the way Crowley never quite could? </p><p>“Look at us, angel,” Crowley breathed, huffing out a laugh as he dropped to his knees next to Aziraphale’s head, reaching out to brush an errant curl or two away from his face. “Couple of broken old bastards, we are.” </p><p>Aziraphale didn’t respond, didn’t react. </p><p>Crowley watched him for a moment longer, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the soft curves of his face, the gold-white halo of his hair. He looked… he looked calm. Peaceful. Like, for just a moment, he wasn’t afraid. </p><p>How desperately Crowley wanted for that to be true. How he wanted to scoop Aziraphale up and fly him away, bring him someplace where Gabriel would never be able to find him again. How he wished he could wrap Aziraphale up in his arms and shield him from the entire world, make sure that no one could ever hurt him again. </p><p>Aziraphale let out a little noise, a soft sort of sigh, and Crowley couldn’t stop himself from leaning forwards, brushing a few strands of hair from Aziraphale’s forehead, and landing a gentle kiss there, just the faintest press of lips against pale skin. </p><p>And there, with Aziraphale asleep and Crowley beside him, breathing in the old-book scent of him, it became utterly, entirely impossible to deny. </p><p>“I love you,” Crowley whispered against Aziraphale’s skin, the warm ache of it filling his whole body, sinking into his very bones. </p><p>The old books and soft dawn swallowed the confession, tucking it away, keeping it safe, and Crowley drew back slowly, reluctantly, his hand lingering in those cloud-white curls for just a moment longer. </p><p>“Good night, angel,” Crowley said, his voice low and heavy with everything flooding through his chest. </p><p>Then he stood and made his way back upstairs to grab his phone– Aziraphale didn’t have any coffee, Crowley knew that, but hopefully some of the cafés in the area did delivery. </p><p>Crowley couldn’t save Aziraphale, couldn’t protect him from Gabriel, not really, not yet. But he could do other things, little things, to help him get through it. </p><p>And he could come up with a plan, some way to keep them both safe, honestly, truly safe. </p><p>He’d figure it out. </p><p>### </p><p>The first thing Aziraphale registered was the sound of the rain pounding against the windows. </p><p>He opened his eyes slowly, blinking against the light. He was… he was in the bookshop, lying on the sofa. There was a blanket over him, and his shoes were on the floor. And– </p><p>Oh, Lord, it was after noon. </p><p>Aziraphale bolted upright, panic clawing at his chest. He’d slept! How could he have– </p><p>“Good morning, angel,” Crowley said, his voice cutting through the rapidly-gathering fog of fear. </p><p>Aziraphale turned towards the voice to see that Crowley was leaning against the doorway that led towards the shopfront, a small smile on his face. </p><p>“Crowley,” Aziraphale said, feeling himself relax almost involuntarily at the sight. “I’m sorry, I– I didn’t mean–” </p><p>“You didn’t fall asleep ‘till around six, I think,” Crowley said. “Right when I was getting up, matter of fact. And I saw the folder, so… I kept an eye out for you. Let you get some rest. I, uh…” He jerked his chin towards the stairs. “I also got you some food, earlier. And cocoa, but I think that’s gone cold by now, so…” </p><p>Aziraphale felt something warm and soft spreading through his whole body as he stood (his hip felt much better, now, which was an additional relief). “Oh, my. Whatever did I do to deserve you, dear?” </p><p>“Didn’t need to do anything,” Crowley said, stepping aside and following after Aziraphale as he climbed the stairs. “You deserve the best.” </p><p>“Dear…” </p><p>“Just being honest,” Crowley said. “Right. I–” </p><p>He paused, a frown flirting over his face. </p><p>Aziraphale tilted his head. “What’s wrong?” </p><p>“Not sure,” Crowley said, pulling his mobile out of a pocket that looked far too tight to have been able to hold it. He squinted at the device– and, at that, Aziraphale realised that he wasn’t wearing his glasses, and his heart lurched to see it. </p><p>“Shit,” Crowley said, turning the screen to Aziraphale, who in turn tore his eyes away from Crowley’s face to read the message. </p><p>It was from Warlock. <i>T-minus 3 hrs. Party time!</i> </p><p>“Oh, dear,” Aziraphale said softly. “I have to admit, I… rather forgot that was today.” </p><p>“Yeah, me too,” Crowley said, his voice quiet. “Shit. Um…” He took his mobile back and typed something out. “I wished them luck. I… guess we’ll see how it goes?” </p><p>“Yes,” Aziraphale said softly, “I do suppose we will.” </p><p>He reached out, then, and squeezed Crowley’s hand, just for a moment, before picking up the takeout bag on the counter and going to bring it back downstairs. </p><p>“I feel like we should do something,” Crowley said, following after him again. </p><p>“I’m not sure there’s anything we can do,” Aziraphale said. “It’s up to them, now. Them and their father.” </p><p>“Well, shit,” Crowley said. </p><p>Aziraphale huffed out a laugh. “Quite.” </p><p>### </p><p>Warlock was having a much better birthday than they thought they would. Yeah, it was raining, and yeah, the magician was rubbish, just like they knew he would be, but the food fight was awesome, and and what was left of the birthday cake tasted pretty good, too. </p><p>Like their mom had said– promised– threatened, the last of the guests were gone by three, leaving the staff to clean up after the party. Warlock was tempted to hang around and see if they could help, but old Brother Francis wasn’t there anymore, and they’d promised Nanny and Uncle Fell that they’d let them both know how it went today. So, instead, they fled the relative safety of the tent outside to the proper safety of the house, shivering with cold and excitement and… and other stuff. </p><p>They were scared. Uncle Fell had said that it wasn’t unmanly to say they were scared, that it was very brave to admit to one’s fears and stand strong in the face of them, and so they could say they were scared, and it was okay. But just ‘cuz they were scared didn’t mean they were gonna change their mind. Having a secret this big had been bugging them since they figured it out, and they wanted to tell their parents <i>now</i>, because it was good to be honest and true. That was what Brother Francis had always said. </p><p>Nanny and Uncle Fell had said it was okay to wait, with this kind of secret. That sometimes, it was better to be safe than honest. But Warlock was safe! Their mom said that she loved them no matter what, and their dad did whatever their mom wanted when it came to them. So they would be okay. </p><p>They just… had to say it. </p><p>That was gonna be the hardest part, they thought. Nanny had given them some good websites to show their parents, and Uncle Fell had given them a couple of books– they had to give them back, because Uncle Fell didn’t like people taking his books, but they found them again online too, and bought a couple of copies with the credit card that Dad forgot he gave them, the same one they use with Uber– and they were gonna use some of the tips from those, and some of the fancy words, too, because Mom always liked when they used fancy words and sounded smart. So they just had to tell them. </p><p>Or, really, they had to <i>find</i> them, and then tell them. </p><p>It took almost ten minutes for Warlock to find their parents, but when they did, they were both together in the dining room, which was actually a little bit weird. </p><p>“Hi,” Warlock said, pushing the door open carefully. </p><p>“Junior!” their dad called, standing up and grinning at them. “The birthday boy himself. How’s my big guy, huh?” </p><p>Warlock winced. They hadn’t told their parents any of it. Not yet. </p><p>“TJ, honey, come sit down,” their mom said absently. “We were just talking about your school.” </p><p>Warlock winced again. They had Googled the school, too. “Yeah, uh… I wanted to talk about that, too. And… and some other stuff.” </p><p>“Oh?” their mom asked, not looking up from her computer. “What kind of other stuff, honey?” </p><p>“Um. I, um.” <i>Just say it. Just say it.</i> “I don’t want to go to an all-boy’s school.” </p><p>“Well, why not?” their dad asked, frowning the sort of frown he made when he was confused, or angry. Warlock really hoped he was confused. “I would have loved to have this kind of an opportunity when I was your age!” </p><p>“I… Mom. Dad.” Warlock took a deep breath, then forced out, “I’m not a boy.” </p><p>Silence fell, thick enough that Warlock felt like they couldn’t move. </p><p>“What?” their dad said finally. </p><p>There was no going back now. “I’m not a boy. I’m not a girl, either, I’m just… I’m me. The… the word is nonbinary–” </p><p>“He’s young, and confused,” their mom interrupted. “He’ll grow out of it, Thad, don’t worry–” </p><p>“He had damn well better!” their dad roared, slamming his fist on the table. “If he’s gonna be some gay little snowflake I don’t want him here!” </p><p>Warlock couldn’t respond. Nanny and Uncle Fell had warned them and warned them, but… they had thought… they had thought that Nanny and Uncle Fell were old, and that parents were okay with this sort of thing now, and that… that… </p><p>That maybe their parents would be different. </p><p>“Thad, calm down,” their mom said, her voice tense and angry. </p><p>“Honey, call the school,” their dad said, reaching out and grabbing Warlock’s arm, hard. “Junior and I are gonna go pack, and we’re sending him off tomorrow morning.” </p><p>“No!” Warlock shouted, jerked back to life by their dad’s hand. It... it hurt a little bit. “No, I’m not gonna!” </p><p>“You are my <i>son</i>, for God’s sake, and I’m not gonna let those queers online corrupt you!” their dad said, dragging them down the hall to their room before practically throwing them inside. “Pack your shit up. We’re leaving as soon as your mom’s done on the phone. And I don’t want to hear another goddamn word out of you about that gay gender bullshit. Got it?” </p><p>“No!” Warlock shouted again, stomping up to their dad and glaring up at him. “I’m not gonna leave it alone. This is me! This is who I am! I’m not a boy, I’m not Thaddeus, I’m not TJ, I’m not Junior! I’m <i>me</i>! I just–” Their voice broke, there, but they forced themself on. “I just want you to love me for me.” </p><p>Their dad stared down at them, his face twisted and ugly and furious. “I’m not going to love some gay sissy. You can either leave that garbage behind, or you can leave my house. My son will not be a queer!” </p><p>Warlock didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer. They just stood there, frozen, as their dad slammed the door behind him and stalked off down the hall. </p><p>It wasn’t okay. Their parents weren’t okay with it. Their dad <i>shouted</i> at them, and he was gonna make them still go to that dumb school, and their mom didn’t do <i>anything</i>, and it wasn’t fair and it wasn’t right and no one <i>cared</i>– </p><p>Not no one. There were two people, just two, who knew who Warlock really was and loved them anyways. </p><p>A new determination seized Warlock, even as they felt themself start to cry. They tore their backpack from the closet and started packing, throwing T-shirts and pants and underwear into the bag at random. Half of it came up off the floor, but they didn’t care. They didn’t know how long it would take their mom to call the school, so they had to move quickly. </p><p>They knew that the window to their room was always unlocked, and that, if they jumped a little, they could reach the old oak tree from it and climb down from there. After that, it was easy to get across the grounds without anyone paying attention, especially with all the rain and the party aftermath. </p><p>Warlock grabbed their phone charger and the big black stuffed dog their actual nanny had given them when she’d left and stuffed them into the bag, too. Their eyes were all blurry and their throat hurt, but they ignored it, zipping the kinda too-full bag up and tugging it on before opening the window and looking out. </p><p>It was still raining, but not as hard as it had been. It was just kind of a yucky, spitty drizzle that was gonna be no fun to walk so far in, but they didn’t really have a choice– it would take too long to call and Uber, and also, Warlock didn’t want their parents to know where they’d gone. </p><p>They paused, just for a second, then grabbed the nearest piece of paper– some wrapping paper from a present– and a pencil and scribbling out a note. </p><p><i>I’m not going to that school. I’m not a boy. That’s not gonna change. I’m sorry I’m not what you want. I’m gonna be safe, I promise. Don’t follow me unless you’re okay with me. Goodbye Mom and Dad.</i> </p><p>They put it on their pillow, carefully, next to the school uniform that they’d tried on earlier that day, then went back to the window, sucked in a deep breath, and leaped. </p><p>It was cold, outside, colder than it had been, and the rain soaked through Warlock’s shirt faster than they’d thought it would. </p><p>As they walked, as they got further and further away from home, it started to sink in. </p><p><i>My dad doesn’t love me,</i> they thought, and more tears slammed into them like a wave at the beach, making them stumble and sob and run faster, faster away from their home, their family, their entire life. <i>My dad doesn’t love me and he doesn’t want to see me again and he called me all the things that Nanny and Uncle Fell told me never to say and he </i>doesn’t love<i> me…</i> </p><p>Warlock choked on another sob, speeding up, sprinting until they couldn’t anymore, until they saw the warm, familiar bookshop up ahead, the windows all lit up and the sign flipped to <i>closed</i>, and they stumbled up the steps and stood there, shivering, pounding on the door like they had that first night. It felt like it was so long ago… </p><p>In seconds, there was a quiet click, and the door swung open. </p><p>Uncle Fell stood there, his eyebrows all scrunched up and his mouth thin. </p><p>“Warlock?” he breathed, looking them up and down. </p><p>“He didn’t–” Warlock gasped. “I told my mom and dad, and he– they– Dad–” </p><p>They let out another broken sob and fell forwards, only sort of on purpose, sure they’d land on the floor. </p><p>But then Uncle Fell caught them, wrapped them up in a hug, pulled them carefully inside, and Nanny was there, too, closing the door behind them and then joining the hug, and Warlock was wet and scared and exhausted and they didn’t know what was gonna happen next, but for a second, just a second, with Nanny and Uncle Fell all around them, they knew, they knew, they were gonna be okay.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So I know Thaddeus is a little OOC from his canon self, but also he’s saying things that I had said to me when I came out, so… be nice? I love y’all, please take care of yourselves </p><p>Summary: After their birthday party, Warlock comes out to their parents. Thaddeus doesn’t take it well, and spends some time shouting before dragging Warlock to their room and ordering them to pack their things so they can leave for the all-boy’s school the next morning. Warlock, instead, packs a bag and runs away to the bookshop, where Aziraphale and Crowley are waiting for them with lots of hugs.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Plans Made and Broken</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Aziraphale makes a choice. The truth comes out.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I’m sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out!! Writer’s block and depression both smacked me over the head at the same time, and so this is even less proofread than normal, I’m sorry. I hope you enjoy regardless!! Also, I appreciate and love all of your wonderful comments– they’re what’s fuelling my writing right now. Thank you guys for reading!!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Aziraphale caught Warlock as they stumbled forwards, horror and sorrow and fury rearing up inside him. </p><p>“My dear child,” he murmured, curling protectively around Warlock’s trembling frame even as he glanced around for the nearest clock. Three forty-six. That would have to be enough time. </p><p>Crowley appeared in front of Aziraphale, carefully locking up the door behind Warlock before joining their little embrace, wrapping around the shaking child from behind and holding both them and Aziraphale close. </p><p>“I’m so sorry, my dear,” Aziraphale murmured, planting a kiss in Warlock’s hair before he could think better of it. </p><p>“S’alright,” Crowley said, his voice rather strained. “C’mon, Warlock, let’s go get you dried off, yeah?” </p><p>Warlock let out a quiet sound that Aziraphale couldn’t quite parse, tightening their arms around his middle. </p><p>“Crowley’s right, dear,” Aziraphale said, gently leading Warlock deeper into the shop, noticing as he did the backpack on Warlock’s shoulders. </p><p>He looked up at Crowley, meeting his eyes– he’d put his sunglasses on earlier, but they were gone again, thank goodness– to see Crowley give him a little nod. He’d noticed it, too. </p><p>“Come, now, sit down,” Aziraphale said, urging Warlock onto the sofa in the back room, letting them pull him down as well. “Let’s take the bag off, yes? It looks rather heavy, I doubt it’s very comfortable.” </p><p>Warlock let go of him just long enough to shrug their shoulders out of the bag, just long enough for Aziraphale to properly see how blotchy and tear-stained their face really was. </p><p>“Crowley, could you–” Aziraphale began, but he stopped when he saw Crowley emerging from the kitchenette, a glass of water already in hand. </p><p>“Got it,” Crowley said quietly, moving Warlock’s bag to sit down on their other side, a hand on their back. “Deep breaths, kiddo. You need to drink something, okay? Don’t want you getting dehydrated on us, now.” </p><p>Warlock sniffled and nodded, straightening up far enough to take the glass in one hand and take a shaky sip. </p><p>“You warned me,” they said, their voice quiet and shaking even worse than their hand. “You said it was gonna go bad. I should’ve listened, I shouldn’t have told him…” </p><p>“Hey, hey,“ Crowley said, shaking his head. “What you did was <i>so</i> brave, Warlock. I... don’t think it mattered much when you did this, t’be honest. A few more years wasn’t... wasn’t gonna make your dad change his mind.” </p><p>Warlock’s arms tightened again, and Aziraphale carefully pulled the glass of water out of their hand before they could spill it and set it aside. </p><p>“He said… Dad said… he called me… all the stuff y-you said not to say,” Warlock said, burying his face in Aziraphale’s middle once more. “He told me to give up all the... the <i>gender stuff</i>, or get out. He…” Warlock’s voice broke in a sob once more. “He said he didn’t love me.” </p><p>“Oh, my darling,” Aziraphale murmured, hugging Warlock close again. </p><p>“He’s a bloody idiot,” said Crowley, his voice and hand both gentle and soothing even as his face grew murderous. “Anybody’d be an idiot not to love you.” </p><p>Warlock shifted, raising one disbelieving eye towards Crowley. </p><p>“It’s true,” Aziraphale said, smiling down at them as gently as he could. “You’re a wonderful person, dear.” </p><p>Warlock sniffled. “Do… do you guys still love me?” </p><p>“Of <i>course</i>,” Aziraphale said immediately, squeezing their little body closer. “Of course we love you, Warlock.” </p><p>“We always will,” Crowley promised, joining the hug properly now. “Always.” </p><p>“I wish you guys were my dads,” Warlock mumbled, snuggling a little more securely into their embrace. </p><p>Aziraphale froze, his eyes jerking up to meet Crowley’s, then darting over to the grandfather clock in the far corner. Three fifty-two. </p><p>“Come on, dear, we ought to get you warmed up,” Aziraphale said, patting Warlock’s arms gently before lifting them up off of himself. “And… I do believe that’s birthday cake in your hair. How on Earth... never mind. I think a nice, hot shower is in order, yes? And then we’ll work out some next steps.” </p><p>Warlock sniffled again, but nodded, and let Aziraphale lead them upstairs and into the bathroom. </p><p>After giving the poor child a quick primer on the shower controls and helping them lay their shirt out to dry, Aziraphale slipped out into the hall to see Crowley standing there. </p><p>“I can keep them safe if they stay here,” Crowley said immediately. Aziraphale realised that he had Warlock’s over-stuffed and slightly-soaked bag clutched in his hand. </p><p>Aziraphale took a deep breath, leaning up against the wall. </p><p><i>I wish you guys were my dads.</i> </p><p>Oh, Lord. Aziraphale realised, like a punch to the stomach, how much he wished it, too. How he wished to take Warlock and Crowley far, far away from here, to find some place safe for them, where they could just… just <i>live</i>, no Gabriel, no Lucian, no one to threaten them, no one to hurt them, just… just him, and Crowley, and Warlock with them. Together. A family. </p><p>“Do you really think we could do it?” Aziraphale whispered, opening his eyes once more. </p><p>Crowley frowned. “Do it?” </p><p>“Get away. Escape. Be… free. Together.” </p><p>Crowley blinked. Blinked again. His eyes were shining in the low, dusty light of the hall. “I– yes. Yes. We’d have to be… we’d need a plan, somewhere to go, but… we could do it.” </p><p>“With Warlock along, there would be so much more at stake…” Aziraphale said, taking Crowley’s wrist and pulling him carefully away from the bathroom door. “But we couldn’t leave them behind, could we? Could we really do this?” </p><p>“We can do it,” Crowley repeated, more firmly this time, his hand sliding up to lace with Aziraphale’s, gentle and warm and so solid, so sure. “I’d need a couple of days to work out the specifics, but I had the start of a plan a few days back already, so it shouldn’t take long.” </p><p>“So long as you’re here, as well, Warlock ought to be safe to stay in the bookshop,” Aziraphale said, biting his lip. “I’m sure Gabriel won’t have me abandon the shop until this whole Soho business is sorted, and that should take several days at least.” </p><p>“We’ll be outta here before then,” Crowley said, squeezing Aziraphale’s hand gently, his beautiful golden eyes so earnest, so hopeful. </p><p>Aziraphale nodded, then looked Crowley over, a new worry blossoming in his chest. “Will you be all right with them? If they start talking more about what happened…” </p><p>“I’ll be okay,” Crowley said, the barest flicker of a smile flirting across his face. “It’s… similar, yeah, but I’ll be okay.” </p><p>“If you’re sure…” Aziraphale sighed. “I’ll be back tomorrow, as soon as I can.” </p><p>“I know.” Crowley frowned, then, tugging Aziraphale half a step closer. “Fuck, I hate the thought of letting you go home with him.” </p><p>“I’ve done it every day for more than fifteen years, now,” Aziraphale said, smiling as reassuringly as he could manage. “A few more won’t kill me.” </p><p>“You’ve had a bit of a change of heart,” Crowley said. “Was it…?” </p><p>“What Warlock said,” Aziraphale said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I… Lord, I want that, too. And I just… perhaps you’re right. Perhaps… perhaps it’s worth it.” </p><p>“It is,” Crowley said fiercely. “It will be. I promise you, angel, it–” </p><p>Downstairs, the door to the shop slammed open, and Gabriel’s voice rang out. “Come on, sunshine, let’s head home!” </p><p>Aziraphale pulled his hand free from Crowley’s, then, before he could think better of it, rose up to press a brief kiss to his cheek and whisper, “I’ll be back soon, my dear.” </p><p>Then he turned and hurried downstairs, calling out, “I’m on my way, Gabriel.” </p><p>Gabriel stood there, his suit immaculate and his hands clasped behind his back, as Aziraphale walked up to him. </p><p>“Anything interesting happen today?” he asked. </p><p>“Nothing at all,” Aziraphale lied. “I didn’t see any of that people you told me to watch for, either.” </p><p>“Great!” Gabriel said, clapping his hands together and grinning. “That’s excellent news, sunshine. Let’s head home, yeah? You can make us some dinner and we’ll talk about next steps.” </p><p>“Of course,” Aziraphale said, letting himself be led from the shop and bundled into Gabriel’s car. </p><p>As they drove off, Aziraphale glanced behind, just for a moment. There was a faint flicker of movement in one of the windows of the flat, a flash of red and black, and something warm rose up in Aziraphale’s chest, something <i>hopeful</i>. </p><p><i>I’ll be back,</i> he thought, as though Crowley could hear him. <i>I’ll be back as soon as I can. I promise.</i> </p><p>### </p><p>Crowley watched Aziraphale being driven away, his cheek burning where his angel had kissed him. There was something sick and sad twisting in his gut. <i>That fucking bastard</i>… </p><p>Well, it wasn’t like there was much Crowley could do about tonight. He just needed to come up with something. Some plan, some idea, some stroke of genius that would set Aziraphale free, set them all free. </p><p>He could do it. He would do it. </p><p>He had to. </p><p>With a sigh, Crowley made his way back down the hall, pausing for a moment outside the bathroom to let Warlock know he’d be in the kitchen upstairs, and that their bag was on the antique sofa in what passed for the flat’s front room. Then he set about making cocoa in the way Aziraphale always did, with real chocolate and whole milk and marshmallows, from the groceries he’d had delivered alongside lunch earlier that day. </p><p>He had just finished his little bit of preparation when Warlock emerged, their hair dangling in their face and dripping a little. They’d changed into a slightly-too-small pyjama set with cartoon snails on it. </p><p>“Hey there,” Crowley said, smiling as kindly as he could and pushing the cocoa towards them. “Feel any better?” </p><p>Warlock just shrugged and slumped onto the antique-looking barstool, curling their hands possessively around the mug and glaring into it. </p><p>Crowley bit back a sigh, reaching out and laying a hand on Warlock’s arm. He wasn’t nearly as good at this whole warm-and-comforting schtick as Aziraphale, and between last night and now his abilities were really being pushed to their limits. “I’m sorry, kid. It… you deserved better.” </p><p>Warlock looked up at him again, their eyes– blue like Aziraphale’s, but a good bit paler, and so much younger, even tired and lined as they were– glittered with yet more tears. “What do I do, Nanny?” </p><p>Crowley couldn’t hold back this sigh. “That’s a good question. It, uh… a lot of it’s up to you, really.” </p><p>Warlock frowned, tilting their head. “What?” </p><p>“Well, way I see it, you’ve got three options at this point,” Crowley said, sitting down on the stool next to Warlock and taking a swig of his own cocoa, which might possibly have contained a just a tiny little bit of rather shitty whiskey, but who could say, really? </p><p>“What are they?” Warlock asked. </p><p>“Well, option one is probably the easiest. You go back in the closet, and go back to your parents.” </p><p>“No,” Warlock said immediately, shaking their head. “No, I don’t– I don’t wanna live with people who don’t love me. I don’t wanna.” </p><p>“You’ve got better boundaries than half of the adults I know,” Crowley said, honestly a little impressed with how sure the kid was. He hadn’t been nearly so confident when he’d… </p><p>Anyway. </p><p>“Right, then. Option two,” he continued, “is probably the safest. I can get you set up with the foster system. It’s not perfect, but I have connections, and also a very thorough knowledge of government databases, so I could make sure you were safe and happy with a good family an’ all that.” </p><p>Warlock looked up at him, a frown stealing over their face. “What’s option three?” </p><p>Crowley took a deep breath, then set his mug down to turn and face Warlock completely. “Option three is… complicated. And dangerous. And it would take time, and… it wouldn’t be easy, if you go with it, you need to know that.” </p><p>“What is it?” Warlock asked again. </p><p>Crowley fought back a grimace. “Option three is… you stay with us. Me and Aziraphale, I mean. You could…. but it’s not–” </p><p>“I wanna do that,” Warlock said immediately, setting their own mug down to lurch forwards and land halfway in Crowley’s lap, their arms wrapped around him in a bone-crushing hug. “I wanna stay with you and Uncle Fell.” </p><p>Crowley winced, only partly because he couldn’t breathe very well like this. “Warlock, it… listen. I need you to listen to this, okay? Before you make your decision. There are… some very, very dangerous people who want to hurt me and your da– uh, Aziraphale... very, very badly. That, uh, that’s why he isn’t here right now. He had to leave for the night to make sure that none of those people find out that you and I are here. We’re gonna be leaving London soon, to get away from them, but there’s a chance they might come after us. And if they do, it could be really, really dangerous. We might end up having to move around a lot, and… and there’s really no telling what’s gonna end up happening. Aziraphale and I both love you so much, kid, I promise, and it’s <i>because</i> we love you that we need you to know that coming with us isn’t gonna be easy.” </p><p>“You guys love me?” Warlock asked, their face still half-buried in Crowley’s chest. “For real and forever?” </p><p>“Always. More than anything,” Crowley promised, selfishly pulling them a little closer, just for a moment. “We love you so much, Warlock.” </p><p>“Then I wanna stay with you,” they said, lifting their head to meet Crowley’s eyes again, and Crowley found himself blown away by the hope and trust he saw in their face. </p><p><i>Well, shit,</i> he thought. <i>I absolutely cannot fuck this up. No way. Warlock trusts me. They’re </i>both<i> trusting me. I need to protect my family.</i> </p><p>His heart skipped a good several beats at that. His bloody <i>family</i>. He hadn’t had one of those in… </p><p>Well. Since he’d been kicked out. Really, a while before that, if he was being honest. More than twenty-three years. Bloody hell. </p><p>“Alright,” Crowley said, his voice coming out a little more choked than it had been before. “Right, then. Ffffffudge, I love you, kiddo.” </p><p>“You can curse, Nanny,” Warlock said, laying their head against Crowley’s chest again. “I’m gonna be in year seven in the fall.” </p><p>“You are, aren’t you?” Crowley said, frowning slightly. School, right, he’d forgotten about that… </p><p>He’d come up with something. He always did. And now, with his brand-new bloody <i>family</i> counting on him… </p><p>“Does that mean you and Uncle Fell are gonna be my dads?” Warlock asked. </p><p>Crowley blinked. “If… if that’s what you want…” </p><p>“It is,” said Warlock. “But I don’t… I don’t want my old dad now to be my dad anymore.” </p><p>“Well, he doesn’t have to be,” Crowley said, running a gentle hand up and down Warlock’s back. “I can find a way to make it official, if you like, though if we’re gonna do adoption I think Aziraphale will want that done all proper-like.” </p><p>“Make it official?” Warlock asked, disentangling themself from Crowley and returning to their cocoa, from which they began to eagerly pluck the largely-melted marshmallows to swallow nearly whole. </p><p>“I’d change some paperwork around with a couple government agencies,” said Crowley. “Emancipate you. It would mean that, legally, if your old dad wanted to try and get you back somehow, or stop you from doing something, he wouldn’t be able to.” </p><p>“Oh,” Warlock said, tilting their head. “Okay. Can you–” Then they froze, their eyes getting big and sad. “You need my real name for that, right?” </p><p>Crowley had seen the other name, in news articles and campaign ads and even the birth announcement– he liked to be thorough. But that didn’t matter. “Do you want everyone to call you Warlock?” </p><p>“Yeah, but–” they began. </p><p>“Then it’s your real name,” Crowley said, reaching out again and squeezing Warlock’s less-marshmallowy hand. “Doesn’t matter what your parents named you. D’you want me to change that for you, too? Or should we give it a little longer?” </p><p>“My mom said that Warlock was a stupid nickname,” Warlock said, their voice going quiet again. “I never even told my dad about it.” </p><p>Crowley bit back a flare of rage at Warlock’s useless biological family, squeezing their hand again, then said softly, “I picked my name, too. Well, part of it, at least.” </p><p>Warlock blinked, looking up at him. “Really?” </p><p>“Really,” Crowley said. “It was… I dunno if I’ve told you this. Don’t think I have. The same thing that just happened to you, happened to me, too. I was a few years older– I spent a whole lot longer asking questions before I said anything– but, my parents kicked me out. Afterwards, I didn’t want anything much to do with them. They gave me the Anthony J., and I kept that, it fit well enough, but I gave myself a new name, too, one they hadn’t ever touched. It… helped. For me, at least.” </p><p>Warlock’s eyes were wide, glittering yet again with the beginnings of tears. “What… which option did you choose?” they breathed. </p><p>Crowley winced. “Option four. I was... alone, basically.” He tugged Warlock closer, draping a protective arm over their shoulders. “You’re never gonna have to worry about that, I promise you. Aziraphale and I <i>aren’t</i> gonna let that happen. Never. You won’t ever be on your own like that.” They had both gone through it, known the loneliness, the desperation, the fear, and Crowley knew, deep in his bones, that he could never, ever, <i>ever</i> let Warlock go homeless. Not even if he had to fight all of bloody London to do prevent it. </p><p>“I love you, too,” Warlock said, leaning into Crowley’s side as they took a sip of the cocoa. “Can you change my name? To Warlock, I mean?” </p><p>“Consider it done,” Crowley said, grinning down at them. “Now, last I heard, there was gonna be a magician at your birthday party. How did that go down?” </p><p>“Oh, he was rubbish!” Warlock said, letting out a laugh, though it was still more subdued than usual. </p><p>The conversation moved on and wound around various subjects for more than an hour after that, more than long enough for the cups of cocoa and definitely-not-whiskey to empty and then fill again with water to “soak” (it was a thing, dammit, not just Crowley being lazy, he was sure of it). Eventually, though, Warlock began to yawn, the fear and pain and heartbreak of the day finally settling into exhaustion. </p><p>“You should get some rest,” Crowley pointed out, nudging them with his elbow. “Been a long day, yeah?” </p><p>“M’not tired,” Warlock yawned. </p><p>“Sure you’re not,” Crowley said, rolling his eyes and nudging Warlock again. “C’mon. Off to bed with you. Let’s go.” </p><p>“But <i>Daaad</i>,” Warlock whined, and Crowley felt his heart stop. </p><p>“Go on,” he said, and if his voice cracked a little as he spoke, at least Warlock was gracious enough not to mention it. “Get to bed, kiddo. I’ll come make sure you’re settled?” </p><p>“Fine,” Warlock said, rolling their eyes and yawning again, apparently oblivious to Crowley’s minor breakdown. “Is Rover dry?” </p><p>“Rover?” Crowley asked, his mouth moving utterly independent of his brain, and thank fuck for that. “You mean the dog you had? Yeah, should be. You want it?” </p><p>Warlock nodded, making their way towards the bedroom. Crowley realised as they did that there was only the one bed in the flat, then decided that he didn’t mind sleeping on the ancient upstairs sofa for a few nights to make sure Warlock was comfortable. </p><p>He retrieved Warlock’s quickly-drying things from the front room of the flat, glad to see that the stuffed dog was, in fact, dry, and then joined Warlock in the bedroom, where they’d already settled into the bed and curled up. </p><p>They looked so young, there, so small, and their eyes were damp and frightened even as they drooped closed. </p><p>“Got Rover for you,” Crowley said, passing Warlock the toy. </p><p>“My dad said I’m too old for stuffed animals,” Warlock mumbled, hugging the toy close. </p><p>Crowley sat down next to them on the bed, brushing their slightly overlong hair out of their face. “Well, I say that’s bull. You’re never too old for stuffed animals.” </p><p>“Are you and Uncle Fell really gonna be my dads?” Warlock asked, their eyes opening again, fixing Crowley with that pale grey stare. </p><p>“If that’s what you want,” Crowley said. “If you want that, Warlock, then we’d love to.” </p><p>“I want that,” Warlock said, closing their eyes and tipping their head forwards slightly. “Night, Dad.” </p><p>“Night, kiddo,” Crowley said, and, fuck it all, he was holding back tears again. “Love you.” </p><p>“Love you, too,” Warlock mumbled, and then they were out, their grip on the toy loosening and their face falling slack. </p><p>Crowley sat there for another long minute, combing through Warlock’s hair gently and wrestling to get control of himself again. </p><p>Then, eventually, he stood up and left the room, closing the door behind him as gently as possible, before hurrying over to the sofa and pulling out his phone. </p><p>He needed to come up with a bloody <i>foolproof</i> plan. </p><p>### </p><p>Aziraphale puttered quietly around the aggressively minimalist kitchen, drying and putting away the dishes he’d just washed. His mind was, quite honestly, back at the bookshop, alongside Warlock and Crowley. He felt rather awful about having left them both there alone, though at least Crowley had thought to have groceries delivered– as little as Aziraphale minded going a day without food himself (and he didn’t mind, he really didn’t, it was for the best, after all), he would have felt utterly beastly subjecting the ones he loved to such a thing. </p><p>Oh, how he hoped that he and Crowley could form a solid plan. Of course, they would need to leave London, that was self-evident, but would they need to go farther? Would they be safe if they stayed in England? Britain? Or would they need to flee to somewhere entirely else? That idea rather terrified Aziraphale, if he was honest– his few experiences abroad thus far had largely been… unpleasant. </p><p>His hip twinged, and Aziraphale fought back a grimace. </p><p>“Hey there, sunshine.” It was Gabriel’s voice, quiet and almost soft, and Aziraphale started, spinning to face him. </p><p>“Gabriel,” he said. </p><p>“You look exhausted,” Gabriel said. He was standing in the doorway to the kitchen in his nightclothes, his hands folded in front of himself and his head tilted to the side. </p><p>“I’m quite all right,” Aziraphale said, smiling shakily. “I thought you were getting to bed?” </p><p>“I missed you last night,” Gabriel said, slowly strolling closer. His hands came up, soft, slow, and cupped Aziraphale’s cheeks gently as Gabriel leaned in and kissed him. </p><p>Aziraphale closed his eyes and rather let it all happen. It was… it was all right, this kiss, but in it, Aziraphale could feel a little bit of what had drawn him to Gabriel in the first place. That assuredness. That stability. That strength. </p><p><i>Well, he definitely has that,</i> a quiet voice in Aziraphale’s mind– one that sounded rather like Crowley– supplied. </p><p>After a long moment, Gabriel drew back, his hands still around Aziraphale’s face, and breathed, “Come to bed, sunshine.” </p><p>“I-I haven’t finished with the...” Aziraphale said, gesturing to the couple of pots left beside the sink. </p><p>“Don’t worry about that,” Gabriel said, a tiny grin quirking his lips. “Leave ‘em for tomorrow, yeah? Come to bed.” He took a step back and held out his hand. </p><p>Aziraphale bit his lip, then took it. </p><p>Some time later, after Gabriel had drifted off and begun snoring, Aziraphale lay beside him, his mind wandering. </p><p>Fifteen years. He had been with Gabriel for fifteen years now, and had known him for twenty. And it… it hadn’t all been bad, really. Especially in the beginning, the few months of their relationship, just after Aziraphale had first moved in… </p><p> But even after that, there were moments. Like… well, like tonight. Perhaps… </p><p>But then again, there was that awful week just after Aziraphale had tried to leave for the first time. The only time, really. He’d known it was stupid and probably doomed, but he hadn’t anticipated… </p><p>Well. There was no use dwelling on the past, was there? And… and, this time, it would be different. Aziraphale knew, now, how dangerous Gabriel and the Archangels could be. He was prepared. </p><p>And he had two reasons hidden in the bookshop for why he simply could not fail. Not like he always did. </p><p>With a sigh, soft enough that it oughtn’t disturb Gabriel, Aziraphale settled down and closed his eyes firmly. He needed to rest. Rest now, and tomorrow… </p><p>Tomorrow. Tomorrow, he would come up with something. </p><p>He had to. </p><p>### </p><p>Aziraphale didn’t get to the bookshop until a quarter past ten the next morning, and Crowley spent every minute that he was late vibrating with anxiety.</p><p>Thankfully, Warlock didn’t seem to notice– they had, apparently, downloaded a new and very gunfire-heavy game onto their phone when they’d gotten up (just after Crowley had removed all of the lowkey spyware that came standard with smartphones these days) and while the noises were hell on Crowley’s nerves, the whole thing seemed to make Warlock happy, so he let it go and hid his nerves as best he could. </p><p>Finally, <i>finally</i>, the door downstairs jangled open, and Aziraphale called, “Crowley! Warlock! How are you two this morning?” </p><p>“Pop’s home!” Warlock squealed, fully throwing their phone onto the sofa and darting downstairs. </p><p>Crowley tailed after them at a what was technically a marginally less breakneck pace to see that they’d thrown themself onto Aziraphale, who was hugging them back and smiling bemusedly. </p><p>“Good morning, my dears,” Aziraphale said, turning that bloody million-watt smile on Crowley, who found himself abruptly glad that he was wearing his sunglasses. “Did you sleep well?” </p><p>“Yeah! The bed here is really comfy, which is weird, because it’s also super old,” Warlock said, squeezing Aziraphale for a second longer before letting go. “I also got a new game this morning and it’s super cool! It’s got a multiplayer and I got the most kills on my whole team last round!” </p><p>“Oh, just do be careful with those online games,” Aziraphale said, ruffling Warlock’s hair. “Don’t go talking to strangers.” </p><p>Crowley let out a laugh. “You mean like they did with us?” </p><p>“I said at the time that it was lucky they came to us rather than anyone else,” said Aziraphale, frowning over at Crowley. </p><p>He just shook his head and looked over at Warlock. “Just keep the chat off, you’ll be fine.” </p><p>“Okay, Dad,” Warlock said, rolling their eyes before taking back off upstairs to resume their shooting. </p><p>Aziraphale’s gaze snapped onto Crowley as Warlock vanished, his eyes wide and stunned. “Did... did they just…?” </p><p>“Apparently, we’ve been re-christened,” Crowley said, his voice quiet. “When you got here, they called you Pop. Don’t think you heard it.” </p><p>“O-oh,” Aziraphale said, his breath hitching slightly. </p><p>Crowley felt something heavy settling in his chest. “I-if you don’t like it, I can talk to them–” </p><p>“No!” Aziraphale said quickly, shaking his head. “No, I– I don’t mind. Not at all. I, um… well, I…” </p><p>“You like it a lot more than you thought you would?” Crowley asked, smiling a little. “Yeah. Me too.” </p><p>There was a brief silence, then. </p><p>Crowley risked taking another half-step closer. “You alright? You were, uh. You were late.” </p><p>Aziraphale winced. “Yes, and I’m very, very sorry about that. Gabriel was, ah, annoyed that I hadn’t finished putting the dishes away last night before I went to bed.” </p><p>Something dark and protective flared up in Crowley’s chest. “He didn’t–” </p><p>“He didn’t touch me,” Aziraphale said quickly. “Not really. Don’t worry, my dear.” </p><p>Crowley grunted, not reassured in the least. </p><p>From upstairs, Warlock let out a whoop and shouted, “Dad! Pop! Come see! I got number eight in the league!” </p><p>“Just a moment, kiddo,” Crowley called back, glancing over at Aziraphale. </p><p>Aziraphale took a deep breath, then, and whispered, “We… we have to come up with something.” </p><p>“I’ve got a few ideas,” Crowley said softly. “Know somebody who knows somebody, that sort of thing. I just need to make a few calls, see if anyone’s willing to help us out.” </p><p>“Do be careful, my dear,” Aziraphale said. “Please. I couldn’t bear it if– please.” </p><p>“I’ll be careful. I always am,” Crowley said, his lips twitching into a smile before he could quite stop them. </p><p>Aziraphale snorted. “Really? Then what do you call that little church caper of yours?” </p><p>“Oi!” Crowley protested as Aziraphale made his way towards the stairs. “Which one of us got arrested over bloody <i>crêpes</i>?” </p><p>And so, the day passed. Crowley ended up spending a third of it trying to get Aziraphale’s ancient desktop working, only to find out that the thing didn’t even have internet– Aziraphale just used it to do his taxes. </p><p>“I swear, angel,” he said after giving up on the old thing, “if I do nothing else when we get out of here, I’ll find some way to bring you into the twenty-first century.” </p><p>Aziraphale opened his mouth to respond, then winced as yet more gunfire from Warlock’s game rang out. </p><p>Crowley frowned. “You alright?” </p><p>“Perfectly,” Aziraphale said, in the way that meant <i>not at all</i>. </p><p>Crowley’s frown deepened. “I’ll go ask them to turn the volume down.” </p><p>“Oh, that really isn’t necessary,” Aziraphale said quickly. </p><p>“S’getting on my nerves a bit, too,” Crowley said. “I’m sure they’ll get it.” </p><p>And, of course, Warlock did get it, and turned the volume off entirely, and gave Aziraphale a tight hug when he wandered into the back room, and everything settled once more. </p><p>It was… it was nice. It was really nice. And Crowley realised, as he watched Aziraphale puttering back and forth from his spot on the sofa, one arm around Warlock’s shoulders, that, if they pulled this off… </p><p>They could have this all the time. </p><p>A smile stole across Crowley’s face before he could stop it, and he resumed his (one-handed) research. He had a lead on a former employee of Lucian’s who’d helped a couple others get free, a woman who called herself Mary Hodges nowadays. Apparently, she lived up near Oxford. If Crowley could figure out exactly where she was, maybe they could go to her, see if she could help them out. He had money, still– Lucian had frozen two of Crowley’s accounts, but he apparently didn’t know about the other six, so they should be good as far as that went. It was just… Really, it was just getting out of London. </p><p>Crowley tugged Warlock a little closer, almost subconsciously, and the kid came, muttering, “Don’t squish me, Dad.” </p><p>“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Crowley said, ignoring the way that word made him feel like he was floating, ignoring the small smile that spread across Aziraphale’s lips as he glanced over at them. </p><p>They got just over five hours. Crowley got to make them all lunch, and after lunch Aziraphale managed to cajole Warlock into playing a round of the positively ancient board game that he’d uncovered while tidying the flat for his guests, and they all started to forget. </p><p>And then, some time after three, while all three of them were sitting in the front room of the flat upstairs, the door to the bookshop slammed open, and Gabriel’s voice rang out. “Aziraphale! Get your useless ass out here now!” </p><p>Aziraphale leapt to his feet, whispered “Hide,” and darted downstairs. </p><p>“Angel–!” Crowley choked out, jumping up, almost chasing after him– </p><p>But he had seen Gabriel. The man was big, bigger than Crowley, and Crowley wasn’t a fighter to begin with. </p><p>And Warlock was here… </p><p>“Dad?” Warlock whispered, creeping closer to Crowley, as Gabriel’s voice started up from downstairs, the words indistinct but the fury in it obvious. “Dad, what’s going on? Who is that?” </p><p>“Go to the bedroom and lock the door,” Crowley said, resting a hand on Warlock’s head just for a moment. “Don’t open the door for anyone except for me. Got it?” </p><p>“Dad–” </p><p>“<i>Go</i>,” Crowley said, gently pushing Warlock deeper into the flat as he slunk off towards the stairs. </p><p>The closer he got, the clearer Gabriel’s voice became, until he could make out the words– and they made his stomach sink. </p><p>“… saw him come in on Tuesday night! You lying little <i>whore</i>. Where did he go?” </p><p>“I don’t know!” Aziraphale cried, and it took every ounce of willpower Crowley possessed not to storm downstairs and do something. </p><p><i>You can’t beat him,</i> Crowley reminded himself, a hand curled around the bannister. <i>You can only make it worse. Don’t fucking move.</i> </p><p>“Your little snakey friend ran off. They think he’s left London.” </p><p>There was a loud <i>thud</i>, and Aziraphale whimpered softly. Crowley’s grip on the bannister tightened. <i>You can only make it worse. You can only make it worse. Don’t fucking move. You can only make it worse for him.</i> </p><p>“You knew that, though, didn’t you? You were planning to join him, weren’t you?” </p><p>“No!” Aziraphale said, his voice desperate, pleading. “No, I wasn’t, I swear, Gabriel, I– <i>ah</i>!” </p><p>There was the distinctive smack of flesh hitting flesh, and Gabriel roared, “You little <i>liar</i>! Get your worthless ass up. Get <i>up</i>! Useless little whore. Clearly, I need to remind you who you belong to. Come on. We’re going home.” </p><p><i>No.</i> Crowley couldn’t let that happen. Couldn’t let him take Aziraphale. He launched himself down the stairs, sprinting after them, a desperate shout rising up in his throat– </p><p>But he was too late. As Crowley reached the ground floor, he heard a car door slam, and an engine rev. Through the narrow window in the still-unlocked front door, he saw a car– an obnoxiously expensive car, Gabriel’s car– tear off down the street, vanishing around the corner. </p><p>Aziraphale was gone.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I’ll have the next chapter out as soon as I can</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Breaking Free</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It’s time to leave London.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A fast update? From me?? What is the world coming to. It is pretty short, so take from that what you will. </p><p>This is the most violent chapter so far, so… fair warning for that, although most of it isn’t super graphic, I think. Thank you all so much for your comments, and I hope you enjoy!!!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Aziraphale lay curled on the floor of his and Gabriel’s bedroom, trying futilely to shield his face, as broken whimpers and desperate apologies poured out of his mouth, punctuated by cries of pain as Gabriel’s blows landed, again and again and again. </p><p>It felt like <i>hours</i> (although it couldn’t have been, Aziraphale knew he wouldn’t have survived hours of this) before Gabriel finally, finally stopped, staring down at Aziraphale’s prone form with disgust written across his face. </p><p>“Useless piece of shit,” he said, bending down and grabbing onto Aziraphale’s arm to yank him to his feet. “Getting blood all over my carpet. What a fucking mess. You’re <i>disgusting</i>.” </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale gasped out, stumbling along as Gabriel dragged him towards the aggressively modernist four-poster bed. “I’m sorry, Gabriel, please, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry–” </p><p>“You’re not going to leave this apartment until you remember your fucking place,” Gabriel said, throwing Aziraphale bodily onto the bed and then grabbing one of his wrists and yanking it up towards one of the perfectly white-washed bedposts. </p><p>“I have, I do, I’m sorry–” Aziraphale pleaded, not daring to struggle against Gabriel’s grip, even as Gabriel pulled out a set of handcuffs from God knows where, even as he fastened one end far too tightly around Aziraphale’s wrist and clasped the other around the pillar. </p><p>“You’re gonna stay right here,” Gabriel said, moving around the bed to repeat the process with Aziraphale’s other wrist. “After the last time you pulled this bullshit, you clearly didn’t learn a goddamn thing. Now I need to go clean up your fucking mess, and when I get back, sunshine, you had better hope I'm in a good goddamn mood.” </p><p>And then he was gone, slamming the door behind him, and Aziraphale let out a broken sob, yanking once more against the cuffs. They were solid, unyielding, and the bedposts they were attached to were topped by large square decals, too large for Aziraphale to slip the cuffs off. He knew that– he knew that, when this sort of thing happened, he was utterly helpless until Gabriel decided to release him. He knew that there was no escaping. No going back. </p><p>No leaving. </p><p>It was his fault. All his fault. He knew better. Knew better than to get attached to people. Knew better than to let himself <i>hope</i>. How could he have been so <i>stupid</i>? </p><p>Aziraphale let out a thready whimper as a white-hot pain shot out from his ribs. They felt wrong, sharp and twisted and painful– broken, most likely. And then there was the rolling nausea building in his stomach, and one of his eyes was most definitely swelling closed, and the handprints around his throat had been more than renewed, and his useless hip was flaring up again, and now the cuffs were digging into his wrist with every movement he made… </p><p>Aziraphale fell back, the pain and the panic and the utter revulsion at himself all overwhelming him, and started to sob. </p><p>### </p><p>Crowley stared after the retreating taillights for an unconscionably long time, feeling something dark and miserable swirling in his gut. </p><p>There wasn’t time any more for plans. No time for thought. No time for doubt. Crowley had to move. </p><p>He locked the bookshop’s front door carefully, then hurried back upstairs. He couldn’t leave Warlock alone now, not when Gabriel had apparently seen Crowley going into the bookshop. The shop wasn’t safe anymore. </p><p>Crowley stopped in front of Warlock’s door and knocked gently on it, calling, “Warlock, kiddo, it’s me.” </p><p>Immediately, the door flew open, revealing Warlock standing there with their eyes wide. </p><p>“What happened?” they demanded. “Who was that? Is Pop okay? What’s wrong?” </p><p>Crowley took a deep breath. “Remember how I told you about some people who want to hurt me and your Pop?” </p><p>“He was one of them, wasn’t he?” asked Warlock. “The guy who just came here. He wants to hurt you both." </p><p>"Clever kid," Crowley said. "They'll be after me, too. And since you're with us, since we both love you, it means that you're in danger, too. We need to get out of here." </p><p>"Are we gonna go save Pop?" </p><p>Crowley took a deep breath. "Yeah. As soon as I've figured out where they took him, then yes. But first, I–" </p><p>Crowley's mobile buzzed loudly, and he yanked it out of his pocket and stared at the screen. </p><p>Lucian had sent him a photo of the bookshop's facade. </p><p>"Shit!" Crowley swore, throwing the phone away from himself. It landed on the sofa face-up, the damn message still visible. </p><p>"Who is that?" Warlock asked, creeping towards it. </p><p>"One of the people who wants me dead," Crowley said. Lucian knew where he was. He'd have eyes on all the surveillance cameras in Soho, and his people would be on their way. Crowley was trapped. </p><p>Shit, shit, <i>shit</i>. </p><p>"What do we do?" Warlock asked, panic flitting across their face, quickly chased by determination. </p><p>Crowley growled low in his throat, running a panicked hand through his hair, his gaze flitting around the crowded little flat, with its dusty old boxes of even dustier old decorations, the old, boxy television, the antique sofa, the moth-eaten curtains… </p><p>Then he froze, hope flaring in his chest, and turned to face Warlock once again, unable to hide his grin. </p><p>"Hey, Warlock, are you too young to have seen Looney Toons?" </p><p>### </p><p>Warlock stood in the hidden wine cellar below the back room of the bookshop, their phone clutched in their hands and their heart racing. From the other room, they could hear the bookshop door rattling, the bell jangling, and the door swinging shut again. </p><p>From the front room of the shop, a low, gravelly voice called out, "Crooooowleyyy!" </p><p>Slowly, carefully, Warlock took a half a step towards the cellar door, clutching their phone a little closer to their chest. The second it buzzed, they were supposed to take off running, to sprint towards the back door and escape out into the alley, and then they were gonna follow the directions that Dad would text them to get to his car, and then everything was gonna be okay. They were gonna be fine. </p><p>There was the steady thudding of footsteps, moving through the back room, and then towards the stairs towards the flat. </p><p>Towards Dad. </p><p><i>Please</i>, Warlock thought, squeezing the phone a little closer, inching a half a step closer to the cellar door– it was built into a bookshelf on the other side, which would've been the coolest thing <i>ever</i>, if Warlock hadn't had to hide behind it for fear of their life. </p><p>"Croooowleyyyyy," the voice called again. It was definitely next to the stairs. "We only want a little word with you!" </p><p>"Up here, people!" Dad called, and the footsteps immediately started up the stairs. </p><p>Warlock crossed the last few inches to the door and pressed their ear against it, listening desperately. The footsteps were nearly directly overhead now– on the landing. About to open the door to the flat. </p><p><i>Dad had better be right about the these guys,</i> Warlock thought, one hand wrapping slowly around the door handle. </p><p>There was the soft creak of a door opening, then a <i>clang</i> and two deafening screams. </p><p>Warlock's phone buzzed, and they shoved the cellar door open, moving towards the bookshop's back door. </p><p>The screaming stopped, and Warlock could hear another voice, not the one who had spoken earlier. </p><p>They were both talking, both of the grownups, and Warlock could hear their dad's voice, hear the way it was shaking just a little bit, the way he was growling, like he was trying to sound cooler than he was, and they couldn't leave. They couldn't just leave him behind. </p><p>As quietly as they could, Warlock crept up the creaky old stairs, listening to the voices getting louder and clearer. </p><p>There was a person lying in the doorway to the flat– someone short and dark, wearing a raggedy old coat. They weren't moving, and a large fire extinguisher lay next to their head. </p><p>Inside the flat, Warlock could see another person, someone else they didn't recognize, someone else in a raggedy old coat and with white hair like their Pop's, except it was ugly and flat and didn't look fluffy at all. His back was turned to Warlock. </p><p>"Ask yourself," their dad was saying, and Warlock could see him behind the weird man, holding something out, though Warlock couldn't see what. "Do you feel lucky?" </p><p>Warlock picked up the fire extinguisher and crept closer, closer, closer. </p><p>The strange man stared at Dad, and Warlock could see Dad's hand starting to shake. </p><p>"Yes," the man said, and took a step forwards. </p><p>"Hey!" Warlock yelled, leaping forwards, swinging the fire extinguisher with all of their might. It connected with the man's knee with a <i>crack</i>, and he tumbled to the ground with another ear-piercing shriek. </p><p>Immediately, Dad leapt forwards, kicking the man in the head once, twice, three times, until the shrieking stopped, and the man keeled over. </p><p>Then he rounded on Warlock. "I told you to <i>run</i>! Hastur could have killed you! What were you <i>thinking</i>?" </p><p>"I was thinking that my dad needed help, and so I had to go help him," Warlock said, dropping the fire extinguisher to fold their arms defiantly. </p><p>"You could have been <i>killed</i>!" Dad repeated, wrapping Warlock up in a crushing hug. "Warlock, I can't let anything happen to you. I can't let you get hurt. I appreciate the assist, really, I do. I love you so much, kiddo. But you cannot do something like that again. Got it?" </p><p>"Got it," Warlock said, their voice only a little bit muffled by their dad's shirt. "I can't breathe, Dad." </p><p>"Sorry, sorry," Dad said, taking a half a step back. "You okay?" </p><p>"Fine," said Warlock, wrinkling their nose at the two collapsed bodies. "Can I go back to not breathing? They both smell like poo." </p><p>Dad laughed loudly, laying a gentle hand on Warlock's shoulder. "They do, don't they? C'mon, let's get out of here while we've got an opening. I'm gonna have you carry two bags for me, okay? And I've got the others packed." </p><p>"Bags?" Warlock asked. </p><p>"We're finding your Pop, and then we're leaving London," said Crowley, ushering Warlock down the stairs. "C'mon, kiddo, let's go. I don't think I've introduced you to the Bentley yet." </p><p>### </p><p>What had to have been several hours later, the bedroom door flew open, and Aziraphale let out a soft whimper as Gabriel stormed in and towered over him. </p><p>"Where the fuck is he?" he growled. </p><p>"What–" Aziraphale began. </p><p>"Where is that fucking snake?" Gabriel roared, grabbing Aziraphale's hair and yanking his head up. </p><p>"I don't know!" Aziraphale cried out against the fresh rush of pain shooting through his whole body. "I don't know, I promise, Gabriel, he left yesterday morning, and I don't know where he went–" </p><p>"You're a lying little slut," Gabriel said, shaking Aziraphale's head violently. "Why should I believe a fucking word you say?" </p><p>"I swear, Gabriel, I don't know," Aziraphale said, fresh tears springing to his eyes. "I promise. Please, I promise, I <i>swear</i>, I don't know–" </p><p>"Useless little piece of shit," said Gabriel, shoving Aziraphale's head down and stepping away. "As always. I'm gonna find your little friend, and I'll make sure he regrets ever even looking at what's <i>mine</i>." </p><p>"No!" Aziraphale gasped, the panic finally overwhelming the pain as he yanked futilely against the cuffs. "No, Gabriel, please– it's not his fault. It isn't– he didn't know– please, <i>please</i>, let me take it again. Whatever you want to do to him– please, do it to me instead, he doesn't deserve– he didn't <i>know</i>– <i>please</i>–" </p><p>"You need to learn that there are consequences to your actions," Gabriel said, shaking his head in disgust. "I let you off too easy last time. This time, every single person who dared to touch <i>my property</i> is going to die, and when I'm done, I'll come back here and remind you of exactly where you belong, and exactly what I do to people who piss me off." </p><p>He punched Aziraphale, hard, in the ribs and then the face, and then he was gone, and Aziraphale was left gasping uselessly for air, the copper tang of blood filling his mouth and nose once more and his ribs sending shooting, white-hot flares of agony through his entire body with every motion. </p><p>But, this time, something stayed clear. </p><p>The ones he loved were in danger. If Aziraphale didn't do something, if he didn't get out of here, if he didn't find some way, some <i>miracle</i>, then Crowley's death and Warlock's fate would be on his hands. He had to do something. He had to <i>move</i>. </p><p>He couldn't slip the cuffs off the bedposts, no. But they were old, and the wood of them, underneath the layers and layers of white paint, was rather weak and cheap– Gabriel was very fond of the <i>appearance</i> of wealth, and modernity, and taste, and had bought wholeheartedly into the industry standard of planned obsolescence the second it had become, well, standard. </p><p>The wood was frail. The wood was breakable. And Aziraphale was operating on pure pain and panic and wild, rampant adrenaline. </p><p>With a soft groan, his ribs and hip and entire body protesting the whole way, Aziraphale dragged himself upright, wrapped a hand around its cuff as best he could, and began to pull. </p><p>### </p><p><i>He has to be somewhere around here, right?</i> Crowley thought desperately. <i>Gabriel wouldn't settle for anything less than Kensington, and Satan bloody knows he could afford it. I just need to find the car. If I can find the car, I can find Aziraphale. He has to be here</i> somewhere. </p><p>Crowley had been driving in circles around London's richest neighbourhoods for nearly three hours now, and that was after more than four hours waiting for bloody Hastur and Ligur to show up, and he had no idea how much time he had left before he wasn't so much leaving London as being chased out. </p><p>Warlock was starting to doze off in the backseat, thank fuck, and the darkening skies and abundance of street-lamps meant that Crowley could see the road fine without having to turn the headlamps on and alert everyone and their dog that he was here. He just needed to find the bloody car. Find the car, and he would find Aziraphale. Find Aziraphale. He had to find Aziraphale. </p><p>### </p><p>Aziraphale set both sets of cuffs down on the dresser, glancing regretfully for a moment at the bed, at the splintered remains of the bedposts. It had been rather nice, even if it wasn't meant to last more than ten years, and Aziraphale was quite sure that Gabriel was entirely incapable of washing all of the bloodstains out of the carpet. </p><p><i>I don't have to do that any longer</i>, Aziraphale realised, and it sent a giddy thrill through his body, a thrill he used to push himself to drag one of Gabriel's suitcases out, to yank as many clothes as he could from his wardrobe and throw them haphazardly into the bag– he hated to wrinkle them so terribly, but he hadn't the faintest idea when Gabriel would be back, and he really ought to get a wiggle on if he was going to make it back to the bookshop. </p><p>Oh, how he hoped Crowley and Warlock were still there, still safe. That Gabriel hadn't… </p><p>No. He'd believed Crowley to be long gone from London. He wouldn't check the shop. Wouldn't believe Aziraphale capable of hiding such a thing directly under his nose. </p><p>Aziraphale just had to move, before he got back. If he saw this… </p><p>With a soft grunt of pain, Aziraphale finished zipping up the suitcase and hobbled out of the bedroom, out of the flat, out of the building. The doorman wasn't there, not at the moment, and Aziraphale knew his neighbourhood well enough to know that a man like him, older and prim and wheeling a suitcase, wouldn't look out of place. He just had to find Crowley. </p><p>He would find Crowley, and they and Warlock would leave, and everything would be okay. </p><p>He just had to find Crowley. </p><p>### </p><p>Crowley slammed the car boot shut and leaned up against the Bentley, staring hopelessly up at the bookshop. </p><p>He hadn't found Aziraphale. He hadn't found Gabriel's bloody car. He had <i>failed</i>, again, and Aziraphale was– </p><p>"Crowley? Crowley, dearest, is that you?" </p><p>Crowley whipped around, facing the source of the voice. </p><p>Standing there, under the weak, flickering light of the same street lamp where they had first met more than a year ago, was Aziraphale, his cloud-white hair lit to a golden halo around his head and slate-grey suitcase dragging along behind him. </p><p>"Aziraphale…" Crowley breathed, staggering towards him, and Aziraphale did the same, and then they were running, colliding, arms wrapping around each other, and Crowley pulled Aziraphale in close, as gently as he could manage in his panicked desperation, and he breathed in the scent of him. Aziraphale smelled like blood and salt, and it made Crowley want to commit murder, but under that was the ever-present scent of old books and Earl Grey and warmth and comfort and <i>home</i>, and Crowley breathed in as deeply as he could, wrestling uselessly against his tears. </p><p>“I’ve got you,” Crowley promised, rocking them both back and forth, one hand tangled in Aziraphale’s curls and the other wrapped almost desperately around his waist. “I’ve got you, angel. I’ve got you. He’s never gonna touch you again. I have you. We’ll be safe now.” </p><p>“Crowley,” Aziraphale breathed, and there was blood in the air, and Aziraphale was leaning heavily on his left leg, and Lucian and Gabriel would be on their tails any minute now, but Aziraphale was <i>there</i>, clutching at the back of Crowley’s jacket, his face buried in Crowley’s shoulder, his voice in Crowley’s ear, and that, that was worth anything. </p><p>“I’m here,” Crowley said, clutching Aziraphale closer. “I’m here, angel. I promise.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>We’re not out of the woods yet, but things do get better from here on out. I promised a happy ending, and I plan to deliver!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Tadfield</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Crowley and Aziraphale run into some help.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>New character tags!! Enter the Tadfield Gang. And a new story tag ;) </p><p>Thank you all so, so much for your wonderful comments, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <i>“I’m here,” Crowley said, clutching Aziraphale closer. “I’m here, angel. I promise.”</i>
</p><p>“Where’s Warlock?” Aziraphale asked, not making any move to break the embrace. “Are they–?” </p><p>“They’re fine, they’re totally fine, they’re safe,” said Crowley quickly. “They’re in the car, actually. We need to go.” </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale said, hurrying back over to his suitcase and dragging it over to the car. “I’m so sorry, Gabriel is– he’ll be– I tried to stop him–” </p><p>“Nope,” Crowley said, shaking his head firmly. “Don’t apologise, angel. You haven’t done a bloody thing wrong. Let’s get outta here, yeah?” </p><p>He pulled the suitcase out of Aziraphale’s grip and tossing it into the boot, on top of the books and bags that were already back there, before he darted over to the driver’s seat and clambered in beside his best friend. </p><p>“I tried to convince him to let you be,” Aziraphale said, wincing. “He didn’t listen.” </p><p>“It’s not your fault,” Crowley repeated. “We’ll be okay.” </p><p>Crowley threw the car into gear and took off, racing down the darkened streets, even faster than was his usual. </p><p>“Crowley!” Aziraphale protested. “If you get us killed in some automotive accident, what is the point of any of this?” </p><p>In the back seat, Warlock shifted, opening one bleary eye. Then their gaze landed on Aziraphale, and they sat bolt upright, a grin stealing over their face. “Pop! You’re okay!” </p><p>Aziraphale started to twist to face them, then stopped, a soft sound escaping him before he quickly arranged hjs face back into a smile. “Warlock! My dear child. Are you all right? Are you hurt at all?” </p><p>“Nope,” Warlock said. “I hit a guy who smelled like poo with a fire extinguisher!” </p><p>Aziraphale’s head whipped around to glare at Crowley. </p><p>“It wasn’t my idea!” Crowley protested. “I told them to run!” </p><p>“Why were there men for them to hit with fire extinguishers?” Aziraphale demanded. </p><p>“Lucian found me,” said Crowley. “M’not sure how–” </p><p>“Oh, Lord. Michael,” Aziraphale said, spitting the name out like a curse. “It had to be Michael. She was the one who told Gabriel that you came by the bookshop on Tuesday.“ </p><p>“Wait, Michael?” Crowley asked. “As in, the other leader of the Archangels Michael? What was she doing snooping in Soho?” </p><p>“Apparently, she heard about it through back channels,” Aziraphale said, leaning back into his seat and sighing. </p><p>“Back channels?” Crowley asked. “You mean…?” </p><p>“Someone in Lucian’s organisation, yes,” Azirpahale said. “I’m afraid I haven’t the faintest idea who, but I do believe they must be rather high-ranking for Michael to have deigned to talk to them.” </p><p>Crowley frowned, glancing over at Aziraphale again, more than a little surprised to hear the bitterness in his voice. </p><p>God, Aziraphale looked bloody <i>awful</i>. The bruises on his neck were thicker and darker than they had been even on Monday, and there were bruises on his face, now, too. His lip was split, and there was blood on it, on his chin, and some of it was still fresh enough to glitter in the passing light of the street-lamps. His wrists were ringed with bruises, like they’d been cuffed, and one was bleeding slightly, staining the pale blue cuff of Aziraphale’s shirt. Worst of all, though, was the way he was holding himself, the odd shallowness of his breath, like there was something wrong with his chest. </p><p>“You ought to get back to sleep, Warlock,” Aziraphale said, glancing at them in the rearview mirror. “I’m sure that this is going to be quite a drive, and you’ve already had a very long day, I’m sure.” </p><p>“Fine,” Warlock said, leaning their head against the window once more and clutching Rover to their chest. “Love you, Dad. Love you, Pop. G’night.” </p><p>“<i>Oh</i>,” Aziraphale breathed, a beaming smile spreading across his face, and even with the blood and the bruises and the way Crowley could only really look at it out of the corner of his eye, it was probably the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. “We love you, too. Sweet dreams, my dear.” </p><p>Warlock let their eyes drift closed, and in minutes, they were out again. </p><p>“Not used to it yet, huh?” Crowley asked. </p><p>Aziraphale shook his head. “It’s all rather wonderful.” </p><p>“Really is, isn’t it?” Crowley said, smiling softly, and silence fell once more. </p><p>Crowley let it go for as long as he could after that, waiting until they were properly out of London, out on the back roads in headed up North, where the surveillance of the city couldn’t pick them up any longer, before Aziraphale’s shallow breaths and occasional noises and barely-there winces finally got the best of him. </p><p>“Angel,” Crowley breathed, trying his best not to wake Warlock, “what did Gabriel do to you?” </p><p>Aziraphale squeezed his eyes shut, letting out a tiny sigh. “My dear, please don’t worry about me. I’m quite all right.” </p><p>“No, you’re not,” said Crowley, an odd, protective sort of anger flaring up in his chest. “You aren’t breathing right. You’re covered in bruises. You’re bleeding, in more than one place. Those marks on your wrists were definitely left by handcuffs– I’ve seen it enough to know, trust me. I know you aren’t all right. You don’t have to pretend, yeah? Not with me. What <i>happened</i>?” </p><p>But Aziraphale just shook his head. “Not– not here. Not yet. If you really want to know, Crowley, I… I’ll tell you, when we get somewhere safe, but I can’t… not yet. Please.” </p><p>“Angel…” </p><p>“Once we’re safe,” Aziraphale said, reaching out and squeezing Crowley’s hand, gently. “Or, well, as safe as is possible for us. I really would prefer you didn’t crash the car.” </p><p>“I’m not gonna crash the car.” </p><p>Aziraphale just hummed disbelievingly, removing his hand from Crowley’s to fold in his lap once more. </p><p>They rode in silence for a good few minute. </p><p>“Where are we going?” Aziraphale asked. </p><p>“Village near Oxford, Tadfield,” Crowley said. “There’s a woman up there who’s done this sort of thing before. Getting out, I mean. Helping other people get out. I figure she might be able to give us a hand, too.” </p><p>“I certainly hope so,” Aziraphale said softly, leaning back with yet another wince, and that made Crowley wince as well. </p><p>They rode in silence for a good, long while, long enough to leave London well behind, long enough that Crowley might’ve thought Aziraphale had fallen asleep if he didn’t know him better than that. </p><p>He wasn’t actively getting worse– at least, not so far as Crowley could see. But he was definitely hurt, and Crowley was tired, and it couldn't be good for Warlock for them to sleep in the back seat of a moving car for the whole night. He needed to find somewhere. </p><p>Well. Hopefully Mary Hodges wouldn't mind taking in some runaways for a night. </p><p>###</p><p>Aziraphale was doing his best to breathe normally. </p><p>Now that the adrenaline of his escape had long since faded, leaving only its typical exhausted trembling in its wake, the pain radiating from nearly every inch of Aziraphale's body was beginning to grow overwhelming once more. It wasn't helped, either, by the swaying and bumping of the car, gentle as it was. </p><p>After what was probably about an hour, though it was fairly difficult to tell, Aziraphale said softly, "Crowley, my dear… where exactly are we going?" </p><p>"I told you about Mary Hodges, right?" Crowley said, glancing over at him. "I'm aiming for her place." </p><p>"Aiming for?" Aziraphale turned as best he could to look at Crowley. “You do know where you’re going? Please tell me you know where you’re going.” </p><p>“I know where I’m going,” Crowley said. </p><p>“Crowley…” </p><p>“I do!” he protested. “Really. It’s just, y’know, it’s dark an’ I’m terrified and I had to leave my mobile at the bookshop so that Lucian couldn’t use it to track us so I’m mostly going on memory. But I know where she is. I’ve been by before.” </p><p>“Oh, really?” Aziraphale asked, intrigued. “When?” </p><p>“Few years ago,” Crowley said. “Work thing.” </p><p>“Ah.” </p><p>There was another moment of silence, and then a thought occurred to Aziraphale. </p><p>“Crowley, I, um. I haven’t had the chance to talk to Warlock about… well, any of this, really. What… what do they know, thus far?” </p><p>“I’ve told them that there are a bunch of people who want us two hurt or killed, and that staying with us was a dangerous choice to make,” Crowley said, glancing up into the rear-view mirror to check on Warlock. “Felt like I had to warn them, y’know? They’re old enough that it wasn’t fair to drag them into this mess without at least letting them know that it’s a bad idea. M’not sure if they’ve figured out why, yet, or what I did– though, now I think about it, I did put out all those stories about their bio-dad with their help. I s’ppose that might’ve been a clue. They’re clever.” Then he tilted his head briefly from side to side. “And they saw Hastur and Ligur. That probably also helped. Or didn’t help. Not sure yet.” </p><p>“Hastur and Ligur?” Aziraphale asked sharply, fully turning towards Crowley now, despite the sharp flare of pain it sent through him. “They were the ones came after you? Oh, my dear, are you all right? Did they hurt you?” </p><p>“No,” Crowley said, shaking his head and glancing over at Aziraphale. “No, they didn’t manage it. Warlock and I took ‘em both out.” He grimaced. “Warlock was supposed to be running away, but…” </p><p>“Are you sure you’re all right?” Aziraphale asked softly, reaching out and resting a hand on Crowley’s arm. </p><p>“Fine, angel,” Crowley said, staring out of the windscreen almost determinedly. “I’m fine. Promise.” </p><p>“My dear–” Aziraphale began.<br/>
Then he saw motion, a blur of movement to the right, headed straight for the car, and he squeezed Crowley’s arm convulsively and shouted his name, and Crowley in turn yelled and slammed on the brakes, and there was a thud from outside and a soft cry. </p><p>Aziraphale sat frozen, his breath coming in desperate pants, each one sending a jolt of pain through him. </p><p>“You just hit someone,” he said softly. </p><p>“No I didn’t,” Crowley said, looking over at him. “Someone hit me.” </p><p>Aziraphale rolled his eyes and threw the car door open, clambering out as gracefully as he could manage. </p><p>There were a woman and a bicycle lying on the side of the road. The bicycle looked largely unharmed, and the woman was sitting up slowly, shaking her head and blinking. She was quite pretty, even with leaves stuck to her dark hair, and she wore clothes that looked entirely unsuited to bicycling or, indeed, life outside of a fantasy novel. </p><p>“My dear girl, I am so sorry,” Aziraphale said, hurrying over to the woman and holding out a hand to help her up. She took it, then froze, her eyes landing on his wrist and then tracking up his body. </p><p>“Who are you?” she asked. She had an American accent, Aziraphale noticed faintly. </p><p>“No one important,” Crowley called over his shoulder. He was still standing over by the car, and when Aziraphale looked over, he saw that the back door was open, and Crowley was half bent over it, clearly trying to reassure Warlock. </p><p>“Are you hurt?” Aziraphale asked the woman, pulling her to her feet and managing to swallow down a whimper at the pressure it put on his chest and leg. </p><p>“No,” the woman said, “I’m fine.” She looked Aziraphale over again, clearly taking in the marks on his wrists, his bruises, his posture. “Are <i>you</i>?” </p><p>“Angel, stop helping people,” Crowley said, closing the car door once more and hurrying over to Aziraphale’s side. “You’re still hurt. Get back in the car, yeah?” </p><p>The woman’s gaze snapped onto him, and her eyes narrowed accusingly. </p><p>“Oi, this wasn’t me,” Crowley protested immediately. “I would never.” </p><p>“He’s not lying,” Aziraphale said. “Is your bicycle damaged? I’m afraid I’m not too knowledgeable about these sorts of things.” </p><p>“Stop being helpful!” Crowley growled, rolling his eyes. “We need to move.” </p><p>The woman’s eyes narrowed again, and a frown crossed her face. “You’re running away from something. Someone. And you’re scared.” </p><p>“Oi,” Crowley said, glaring at her. </p><p>“We’ll be quite all right,” said Aziraphale, smiling as gently as he could manage. “Is your bicycle useable, or should we help you get home safely?” </p><p>“No,” said Crowley, shaking his head. “Absolutely not. We’re not giving her a lift.” </p><p>“I’m Anathema Device,” the woman said, holding her hand out once more. “I can help you guys.” </p><p>Aziraphale shook her hand, smiling softly. “My name is Aziraphale, and this is Crowley.” </p><p>“Angel, stop. We don’t need–” Crowley began. </p><p>“Mary Hodges is on vacation in Tampa for the next two months,” said the woman– Anathema. “You guys look exhausted. If you don’t mind giving me a ride back, you could stay with me and my boyfriend tonight, and then tomorrow’s up to you.” </p><p>“Listen, kid,” Crowley said, taking a step closer to Anathema, but Aziraphale caught his arm, stopping him. </p><p>“Hold on, dear,” Aziraphale said. “She does have a point. You’re exhausted, I know you are, and if Miss Hodges is out of town, then what other choice do we have?” </p><p>“Angel…” </p><p>Oh, Aziraphale hated to play this card, but he was sore and scared and exhausted, and he knew Crowley must be, too. “What about Warlock? They can hardly spend the whole night in the Bentley.” </p><p>Crowley growled, pulling his arm free to throw it up in the air. “Fine! Fine. Fine. Where are we taking you?” </p><p>“Back to the village,” said Anathema, crossing to the car and climbing in carefully. “I’ll give you directions.” </p><p>“Who’re you?” Warlock demanded immediately, as Aziraphale and Crowley both clambered back into the Bentley as well. </p><p>“I’m Anathema,” Anathema said, smiling over at Warlock. “Are these two your dads?” </p><p>“Yeah,” Warlock said, and when Aziraphale managed to catch a glimpse of their face in the rear-view mirror, they were smiling. “Yeah, they’re my dads.” </p><p>“Right,” said Crowley, twisting around to glare at Anathema. “Where to?” </p><p>### </p><p>The worst part was, Bike Girl was right. Crowley was <i>exhausted</i>. He figured he’d earned it, after a day like today, but he also wasn’t about to admit it out loud, especially not to a total stranger. </p><p>Anathema was sat in the back seat, talking to Warlock in between directions, while Bicycle Race started on its third loop (yes, all right, he was sick to death of Queen, but he also knew better than anything else how to get on people’s nerves, and he figured the girl deserved it at least a little bit for nearly denting the Bentley). Beside him, Aziraphale was back to breathing far too shallowly for comfort, and Crowley fought every instinct he had to keep from reaching over and taking his hand. </p><p>“Oh, pull over here,” Anathema said suddenly, and Crowley did, slowing to a stop next to a nauseatingly quaint little cottage with a hedge around it, climbing ivy all up one wall, and, for some bloody reason, a horseshoe nailed over the door. </p><p>Anathema clambered out, saying quickly, “Let me just go and let Newt know you’re coming. Feel free to bring anything you’ll need for the night inside, we have a spare bedroom and a very nice couch downstairs.” </p><p>“Thank you ever so much, my dear,” Aziraphale said, smiling brightly over at Anathema. </p><p>Crowley just gave a short nod. </p><p>Anathema vanished into the cottage, and Crowley turned to Aziraphale, muttering under his breath, “I don’t like this, angel.” </p><p>“My dear, what choice do we have?” Aziraphale asked, glancing fretfully back at Warlock and then wincing once more. “Especially if she’s telling the truth about Miss Hodges. Just the one night can’t hurt, can it? And it prevents us from having to pay to stay somewhere– can’t one track that sort of thing?” </p><p>“Not with cash,” Crowley muttered, not fully willing to concede defeat yet. </p><p>Aziraphale just raised an eyebrow at him. “And do you have cash?” </p><p>Crowley groaned. “Fine. You’re right. Let’s go inside. And then I’m gonna use every single bloody bandage in that cottage to take care of you. Got it?” </p><p>“I would prefer it if you didn’t use the bloody bandages,” Aziraphale quipped, climbing carefully out of the car before walking around to Warlock’s door. “Come on, my dear child. You ought to get some proper sleep, it’s been a rather eventful day.” </p><p>“Warlock,” Crowley said, hurrying over to his child’s side. “Listen. Kid. You’re probably gonna be on the sofa tonight, yeah?” </p><p>“Uh-huh,” Warlock said with a yawn. </p><p>“If anything happens that makes you uncomfortable, or scared, or anything, you come find us, okay?” Crowley said, crouching down slightly to meet Warlock’s eyes. “Promise me you’ll come get us if you see or hear anything that you don’t like.” </p><p>“I’m not dumb,” Warlock said, rolling their eyes and pulling their backpack out of the footwell and slamming the car door behind them. “C’mon, Dad, Pop.” They turned and lead the way up to the cottage. </p><p>“Go on, angel,” Crowley said, almost reaching out and taking Aziraphale’s hand before thinking better of it. “Go inside. I’ll bring our bags in, yeah? Go find out where their first aide kit is.” </p><p>“Don’t dally, my dear,” Aziraphale said softly, before he turned and followed Warlock up to the door. </p><p>He was definitely limping. </p><p><i>Fuck,</i> Crowley thought faintly, retrieving the bags from the boot as promised. He decided to leave the rest; it’d make it easier, if they ended up needing to make a run for it. </p><p>Shit, Crowley hoped that this Device girl wasn’t pulling something. He needed a break. <i>Aziraphale</i> needed a break. And Crowley just wanted to bloody <i>sleep</i>. </p><p>Not yet, though. He couldn’t yet. Not until he was sure that Aziraphale and Warlock were safe and taken care of. </p><p>With another quiet groan, Crowley heaved the two bags up the frustratingly cutesy little path and into the cottage. </p><p>Aziraphale was standing over the sofa, looking down at Warlock, who had collapsed onto it and was snoring softly. He looked up as Crowley approached, and smiled gently. </p><p>“Anathema’s getting a blanket for them,” he said. “They, ah, rather collapsed. I thought it best to let them sleep.” </p><p>“Probably is,” Crowley said. “Um. I’ll just…?” </p><p>“The guest bedroom is straight upstairs, second door on the left,” said Anathema as she bustled down the stairs, a thick, fluffy blanket in her arms and a tall, skinny man with glasses and a very confused expression on his face tailing after her. “Aziraphale, Crowley, this is Newt, my boyfriend. Newt, these are the two I told you about, and their child, Warlock.” </p><p>“Nice to meet you,” Newt said, holding his hand out. He was a Brit, unlike Anathema, and somehow seemed even mousier up close. </p><p>Aziraphale shook his hand, smiling warmly. “Thank you ever so much for letting us stay the night. I promise we won’t be any trouble.” </p><p>Crowley just nodded, not willing to be nearly so gracious as his angel but much too tired to put up a proper fight. </p><p>As he brushed past Anathema towards the stairs, she said quietly, “We have a first aide kit and some pain meds in the bathroom upstairs, and some ice packs in the freezer. If you need help, I took some courses a year ago.” </p><p>Immediately, Crowley liked her better. </p><p>“Thanks,” he muttered, adjusting his grip on the bags and hauling them both upstairs before Aziraphale could see and try to help. </p><p>The guest bedroom was small, and just as quaint as the rest of the cottage, with a rickety old dresser, an even ricketier desk and chair set, and only one bed. Crowley rolled his eyes, feeling briefly like a character in some shitty romance novel, before dropping Aziraphale’s (or, probably, Gabriel’s) horribly ugly suitcase and his own messenger bag onto the floor and slouching off to poach all the medical supplies in the cottage, as promised. </p><p>By the time he made it back to the bedroom, Aziraphale was there already, bent over his suitcase and pulling out a set of beige pyjamas. </p><p>“What’re you doing? Go sit down, angel,” Crowley said, pulling the pyjamas from Aziraphale’s hands and leading him over to the bed. </p><p>“I was planning on getting ready for bed, my dear,” Aziraphale said, raising an eyebrow at Crowley. </p><p>Then he faltered, his face falling. “Unless, of course– oh, how presumptuous of me. I’m so terribly sorry. Of course, I saw a perfectly lovely-looking armchair downstairs, I wouldn’t mind–” </p><p>Crowley blinked, utterly bewildered. “What? No. You’re sleeping in the bed. I was planning on doing that, too, if you’re okay with it. But, no, I was talking about getting you patched up.” </p><p>“Oh,” Aziraphale said. “Oh, my dear, I’m quite all right, really.” </p><p>“You’re acting like you have a broken rib,” Crowley said, nudging Aziraphale as gently as he could towards the bed. “Not twisting, shallow breathing, all that. And your wrists look awful. And you’re covered in bruises. Let me help you, yeah?” </p><p>Aziraphale sighed, then winced slightly. Again. “My dear, you’re obviously exhausted. Go to sleep. I’ll keep until the morning, I promise.” </p><p>“I won’t,” said Crowley. “M’not gonna be able to sleep if I know you’re hurting, and I didn’t do anything about it.” He took a careful step closer, laying out the bundles of supplies in his arms on the foot of the bed. “Please. For my sake. Let me help you.” </p><p>Aziraphale worried at his lip for a long moment, then nodded. “All right. What, um. What do you need me to do?” </p><p>“I need to be able to see everything,” Crowley said. “All the bits that hurt. That means shirt off, probably.” Then he froze, a jolt of panic shooting through him. “I mean, if you’re– if you’re okay with that? I don’t wanna– I can probably make it work through the shirt, too, but–” </p><p>“Crowley. It’s all right, my dear. I don’t mind it if you don’t.” Aziraphale said softly as he started to shrug his jacket off, wincing again. </p><p>“W-wait,” Crowley said, crossing the last foot or so to Aziraphale’s side and carefully, carefully reaching for him. “Let me help. Please. I don’t want you to hurt yourself worse by accident.” </p><p>“Crowley…” </p><p>“<i>Please</i>, angel,” Crowley said softly. </p><p>“Crowley, I have dealt with worse injuries than this more than once,” Aziraphale said, rolling his eyes, pulling off his bow tie, and starting on the buttons for his waistcoat. </p><p>Crowley felt something heavy settling into his stomach. “That’s not reassuring. You do realise that’s not at all reassuring, right? Shit, Aziraphale…” </p><p>He’d managed to get his waistcoat open while Crowley was talking, and so Crowley stepped forwards, reaching out. “Can I…?” </p><p>Aziraphale nodded, just once, and Crowley took the soft, worn velvet in his hands, sliding it off Aziraphale’s shoulders, setting it aside, before his hands moved to the buttons of the pale blue shirt underneath, starting with the cuffs and then moving on to the front. There was blood on the collar, and Crowley felt that weight in his stomach grow heavier. </p><p>He’d imagined doing this before. Imagined it differently. No less gentle, no less tender, but… without the blood and bruises. Without the pain and fear and exhaustion. Without the walls of a stranger’s home around them while they fled for their lives. </p><p>Aziraphale wasn’t wearing a vest, and thus when Crowley finally slipped his shirt off, his whole upper body was bare to the room. </p><p>He was <i>beautiful</i>, of course he was, all soft, gentle curves with a faint dusting of white-blond hair. But his chest was… it was completely mottled with bruises, pale skin turned a dark, vicious purple with pain. The bruises extended farther even than Crowley had been afraid of, covering nearly his entire ribcage, spreading up and down his arms, across his stomach, around to his back. Up his neck, in the shape of a large, heavy handprint. </p><p>“Fuck, Aziraphale…” </p><p>Aziraphale turned away, wincing slightly and folding his arms over his chest, like he was trying to hide himself away. “I– I know I’m not– I’m sorry. I can go change in the bathroom, and–” </p><p>“Stop,” Crowley said, reaching out to touch Aziraphale’s hands gently, to pull them away from himself. “You’re– it’s not– you’re not– it’s not about that. Never about that. It’s just… you’re hurt worse than I thought. Fuck, Aziraphale, this must hurt so badly…” </p><p>Aziraphale glanced up at him, smiling faintly. “Well. As I’ve said. I’ve had worse.” </p><p>“You don’t have to pretend it doesn’t hurt,” said Crowley, sitting down carefully next to Aziraphale and reaching for one of the ice packs. “Not with me. Yeah? I just… I want to take care of you.” It was as close as he could come to it, especially right now, especially like this. </p><p>“My dear…” Aziraphale breathed. </p><p>Crowley handed him the ice pack, then took his free hand and picked up a bandage. “Hold that on the bit that hurts the worst, alright? I’ll wrap this up first, then do the other one. I… ngh, I really think you’ve got a broken rib or two, so…” </p><p>“I think you may be right, dear,” Aziraphale said, pressing the ice pack to a spot on his left side, wincing yet again as he did so. “Oh. Terribly unpleasant business.” </p><p>Crowley snorted, looking Aziraphale’s wrist over briefly before standing up. “Stay right there, angel. I’m gonna go hunt down a flannel and some water to clean this all up properly. Okay?” </p><p>“Of course,” Aziraphale said. </p><p>Crowley did so, as quickly as he could, and when he came back, Aziraphale hadn’t moved. His eyes were closed, now, and he was breathing a little more deeply, though it was clearly a deliberate thing. </p><p>“Got it,” Crowley said softly, dragging the old chair closer to the bed in order to set the bowl down on it. “Also got you some water, so you can have some painkillers. Strongest thing they had was ibuprofen, m’afraid, so that’s what you’re getting.” </p><p>“Better than usual,” Aziraphale said, putting the ice pack down to accept both the glass of water and the bottle of pills that Crowley passed him. </p><p>“Better than…?” Crowley asked, almost afraid to hear Aziraphale elaborate. </p><p>“Well, you know,” Aziraphale said, swallowing two pills carefully before passing everything back to Crowley and resuming his ice pack duties. “My parents were fond of, quote, ‘healing all ills through God’s Grace’, and Gabriel never quite saw fit to spend the couple of pounds required to stock the medicine cabinet. It really isn’t–” </p><p>“If you say it isn’t a big deal, I’m going to explode,” Crowley warned, taking Aziraphale’s hand once more– fuck, it was so warm, and there were some slightly strange callouses on it. Soldier’s callouses. Such rough marks, only making the softness of the rest of it all the more apparent. Crowley pulled the flannel out of the bowl and started to wipe away the dried blood. “Shit, Aziraphale… I’m so sorry.” </p><p>“I do believe we’ve talked about apologising for things you can’t control,” Aziraphale said, smiling gently. “I’m quite all right, my dear. Much better now than I’ve ever been before.” </p><p>“Ngk. Well. Right. Yeah.” Crowley set the flannel back down and picked up one of the bandage rolls, wrapping it carefully, gently, soaking in the warmth of Aziraphale’s skin. “Well then. Hope that stays true.” </p><p>“I think it might,” Aziraphale said, and there was something in his voice, in those eyes, so striking even in the uneven, artificial light of this room. “As long as… as long as you’re there.” </p><p>And, oh, fuck, Crowley couldn’t hold it back any longer. “I love you.” </p><p>Aziraphale froze, his eyes snapping onto Crowley’s, his lips parting slightly, and Crowley forced himself to hold still, too, though he couldn’t quite bring himself to let go of Aziraphale’s hand. </p><p>“You… what?” Aziraphale asked. </p><p>“I love you,” Crowley repeated. “A-and– I mean, there’s no, like, expectations, or anything. I don’t need– I don’t necessarily want anything to change, or– you don’t have to say anything, and– and if you don’t feel the same, that is absolutely, totally, one hundred percent fine, I just… I wanted you to know. You’re beautiful and clever and funny and so, so kind and just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing and I love you. So much. More than anything.” </p><p>“Crowley,” Aziraphale said, and he pulled his hand free, and Crowley fought his best to keep from letting his disappointment show, but then Aziraphale was reaching up, cupping his face, his touch so gentle, so soft, almost unsure. </p><p>“I love you, too,” he breathed. </p><p>Crowley’s breath hitched. “Wait, really?” </p><p>“Yes. I love you, Crowley. So very much. And I have for quite some time, now, I think.” He smiled, tremulously, and Crowley could see the tears brimming in his eyes. “All I want is to keep you safe, my dear. My <i>love</i>. And… as you said, nothing has to change, but… if you would like…” He sighed, a faint, pained sort of look crossing his face. “I’m not entirely sure how much I’m… ready for, as it were. I might need… to go rather slowly? And if you’d rather not wait–” </p><p>“I’ll wait,” Crowley interrupted, his own hand flying up to cradle the one on his face. They were both trembling, ever so slightly. <i>Broken old bastards,</i> Crowley thought, and nearly laughed. “Slow is fine. Good. Brilliant. Don’t mind it at all. I’ll wait as long as you like, angel. Could wait for six thousand years if that’s what you need.” </p><p>“Well, I hardly think it will take that long,” Aziraphale said, smiling faintly. “My love. Oh, I love you so.” </p><p>“Mngh,” Crowley mumbled, nuzzling against Aziraphale’s palm. “Love you too. Gonna kill me with all your soft, angel. I’ll be dead soon.” </p><p>“Oh, dear,” Aziraphale said, smiling that wonderful smile of his, and Crowley melted at the sight of it. “What a tragedy that would be.” </p><p>“Damn right,” Crowley said, pulling Aziraphale’s hand away from his face and unwrapping the bits of bandage that had come undone. “Now stop distracting me. I’m taking care of you.” </p><p>Aziraphale laughed a little, then winced. “I do believe this distraction was your fault. I was perfectly content to go to my death with that particular secret.” </p><p>“I wasn’t being distracting, I was being <i>diverting</i>,” Crowley corrected, tying off the bandage. “S’a big difference. Switch hands for me, yeah?” </p><p>“Oh? And what is this difference?” Aziraphale asked as Crowley retrieved the flannel again and began to clean his other wrist. This one looked worse, and Crowley bit back a wince at the sight of it. </p><p>“Distracting is when you do it. S’all pretty and angelic and all that. Diverting is a lot more… slinky. Sensual. Tempting.” </p><p>“While you are certainly all of that, love, I don’t think those words apply in this particular instance,” Aziraphale said. </p><p>Crowley felt himself blushing bright red, and he ducked his head to hide it. “Shows what you know.” </p><p>Aziraphale laughed again, and, fuck, that sound was worth <i>everything</i>. </p><p>Silence fell between them, a warm, soft, comfortable sort of silence, as Crowley finished bandaging the second wrist and moved on to Aziraphale’s face, gently wiping away the blood and the mostly-faded tear tracks with the old flannel. Aziraphale let him, closing his eyes and sighing out a soft breath as Crowley’s hand brushed against his cheek, as he pressed the cloth as gently as humanly possible against alabaster skin, and Crowley let himself stare, marvelling at this <i>wonder</i> in his hands, his entire body aching with love for his angel. </p><p>His angel. </p><p>Fucking hell. Aziraphale loved him back. Crowley had suspected, had <i>hoped</i>, but now he knew, he had confirmation, proof-positive, and it felt like nothing he’d ever known before. <i>Aziraphale loves me. Aziraphale loves me. Aziraphale Zachariah Fell </i>loves<i> me.</i> </p><p>Eventually, he finished with the flannel, and set it aside once more. His hand didn’t leave Aziraphale’s face, not even as those blue eyes fluttered open, locking with his own, even as he drifted ever so slightly closer, drawn as though by gravity. </p><p>“Angel,” Crowley breathed. “I really want to kiss you right now.” </p><p>Aziraphale blinked, his lips falling open again, and Crowley forced himself not to stare at them. </p><p>“Y-you…?” Aziraphale asked. </p><p>“You don’t have to,” Crowley said. “No pressure. If it’s too fast…” </p><p>“I, um. I think I’d quite like to kiss you, too,” Aziraphale admitted. “If that’s… if you…?” </p><p>In lieu of a verbal answer, Crowley leaned forwards, slowly, carefully, giving Aziraphale time to back out if he needed to. </p><p>Instead, Aziraphale leaned forwards as well, pressing their lips together, and Crowley melted. </p><p>It was everything he’d thought it would be and more. It was warm, and soft, and gentle, and oh so careful, and he could feel the split on Aziraphale’s lip, and he still tasted ever so faintly of blood, and it was without a doubt the best kiss of Crowley’s entire life. </p><p>After a long, long moment, Crowley drew back, just far enough to breathe, to speak. His eyes opened, meeting Aziraphale’s once more, and the <i>love</i> in them nearly bowled him over. </p><p>“I love you,” Crowley said, and his voice was a little bit strangled, and there might have been tears in his eyes, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to care. </p><p>“I love you, too,” Aziraphale replied, and, fuck, Crowley didn’t think he’d ever get used to hearing that phrase in that voice, and he was kind of okay with that. </p><p>Crowley leaned in again, one more soft, gentle, chaste little kiss, before he forced himself to move back, the hand that had been on Aziraphale’s face dropping to his shoulder. “Is the rest of you okay? Any other injuries? How’s your hip?” </p><p>“My–? Oh, was it that obvious? He just irritated the old scar, I’m afraid. There’s nothing else too serious. Just some more bruises,” Aziraphale said, reaching out to squeeze Crowley’s free hand with his. “I’ll be all right overnight, dear, and you look as though you’re about to fall asleep sitting up.” </p><p>Crowley frowned. Aziraphale was sort of right about that last bit, but Crowley wanted to be absolutely certain that there was nothing else pressing before he fell asleep. “You sure?” </p><p>“Positive, my dear,” Aziraphale said. “Come now. Would you, um…” His cheeks turned a faint and very pretty shade of pink. “Would you like to lie down? H-here, I mean, next to–?” </p><p>“Yeah,” Crowley said, just a little bit too quickly. “Yeah, yeah, I– yeah. Lemme just…” He jumped up, set all the extra first aide stuff on the little chair, and then practically threw his jacket and jeans off. “You’re, um. I think you’re good to put the pyjamas on? And take the ice pack off.” </p><p>“Well, thank you, Doctor Crowley,” Aziraphale said, letting out another small laugh and even smaller wince as he stood. </p><p>Crowley turned away– he wanted to see, really badly, which was the problem– and dug through his own bag to pull out something soft enough to sleep in. </p><p>In minutes, they were both back on the bed, lying down this time, under the covers. Next to each other. Touching each other. </p><p>Aziraphale shifted a little bit closer to Crowley and slowly, slowly, leaned his head down onto Crowley’s chest. “Is, ah. Is this all right?” </p><p>“Yeah,” Crowley choked out, wrapping a careful arm around Aziraphale’s shoulders– they had been generally less damaged than his middle, which meant they were fair game– and nodding. “Yeah. Yup. More than. S’perfect, angel.” </p><p>“Good night, my dear,” Aziraphale murmured, smiling softly as his eyes drifted closed. “I love you.” </p><p>“Love you, too,” Crowley said, pressing a quick kiss to those down-soft, snow white curls before closing his own eyes. </p><p>Lying there, wrapped up in each other’s arms and finally, <i>finally</i> safe, Crowley and Aziraphale fell asleep. </p><p>### </p><p>
  <i>In the grey light just before dawn, a tall, narrow man picked up a ringing phone. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Mister Wright. I was expecting your call.” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Lucian, buddy. You stole something of mine. I want it back.” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Funnily enough, I was about to accuse you of the same thing. Your pet ran out on you, too, then?” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Too?” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Since we’re being honest with each other, I can tell you that Mister Crowley has also left rather without my permission. He was last seen, as I’m sure you know, getting into a car with your Mister Fell after taking out two of my best operatives, one of which is not expected to survive. I was hoping you might have some insight as to where they’ve gone?” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“You don’t know?” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“My surveillance footage lost track of the car after it left London– it was headed north.” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“I saw that, too. Seems like they stayed on back roads. Don’t think they’ve left the country, either, but I’m keeping an eye on all the major points of entry.” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“It seems as though we’re rather in the same predicament, Mister Wright. I wonder if we might help each other out, as it were.” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“… We’d need to keep it quiet.” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Ah. Don’t want to let the world know you let your toy escape?” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Do you?” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“You have a point. Very well, then. I’ll call you should I learn something, and I hope you’ll do the same.” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Sure thing, bud. You have this number, now.” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“I do, indeed. Good-bye, Mister Wright.” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>Across London, a violet-eyed man set down his phone, and a grin slowly spread across his face.</i>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>*Ben Wyatt voice* it’s about the inherent eroticism of tenderly dressing your lover’s wounds </p><p>I’ll have the next chapter up as soon as I can. Thank you for reading!!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Friends Old and New</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter is nice and fluffy. I figure y'all deserve a break. </p><p>And speaking of: I know that no one comes to fanfic to hear more about real-world current events, so I won't talk about them in any depth. I just wanted to say that I do live in the U.S., and I am going to the protests whenever I can. I'm fine and unhurt, and I don't expect that to change, but if my update schedule is even more erratic and my chapters are even messier than usual, that's why. </p><p>I hope you guys enjoy this chapter!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Aziraphale awoke to a sharp stab of pain and something warm and solid pressed up against his back. </p><p>He held himself deliberately still, breathing deeply, as the pain eased. If he woke Gabriel up– </p><p>Then he realised, remembered, and the wave of emotion that crashed over him was like another throb from his chest. It wasn’t Gabriel behind him, but Crowley. Crowley, with his arm around Aziraphale’s waist, with his nose pressed into the back of Aziraphale’s neck. It hurt just a little bit, put some slightly uncomfortable pressure on some of the bruises, but Aziraphale could hardly bring himself to mind. </p><p><i>Crowley loves me,</i> he thought. <i>Crowley told me that he loves me.</i> </p><p>It felt… unreal, honestly. And Aziraphale wanted to believe it, he wanted it so desperately, but… </p><p>In all honesty, Aziraphale couldn’t recall the last time someone had said that they loved him. Well, there had been Warlock last night as well, and that, too, had rather thrown Aziraphale. </p><p>Behind him, there was movement, and then a sleep murmur as Crowley’s arms tightened ever so slightly. </p><p>Aziraphale bit back a faint hiss of pain, then said softly, “Good morning, Crowley, dear.” </p><p>“Mngh. Too early. G’back to sleep,” Crowley grumbled, tightening his grip again. </p><p>This time, Aziraphale couldn’t hide his wince. </p><p>Immediately, Crowley’s arms loosened, and he jerked away. “Shit. I’m sorry, I didn’t think–” </p><p>“It’s quite all right,” Aziraphale said, pushing himself upright in order to look over at Crowley properly. “It’s not–” </p><p>“I ssswear, angel, if you say it’s not a big deal…” Crowley said. </p><p>Aziraphale didn’t respond. Couldn’t respond. He was rather preoccupied, staring at the man half-sitting beside him. </p><p>Crowley’s hair was tousled beyond any hope of control. There was a faint crease in one of his cheeks from the pillow, and his wonderful golden eyes were on display, open and honest in the soft light of morning. He looked absolutely stunning, and Aziraphale felt almost struck dumb by it. </p><p>“I don’t want to hurt you,” Crowley said, his hand sliding slowly over Aziraphale’s, so warm and soft even through the bandages. “I don’t ever, ever want to hurt you.” </p><p>“You weren’t,” Aziraphale said, flipping his hand over to hold Crowley’s properly. “You won’t.” </p><p>“Shit, angel… I love you so much.” </p><p><i>Oh</i>. Something warm and achingly soft bloomed in Aziraphale’s belly, spreading through his entire body. “I love you, too, Crowley. More than anything.” </p><p>“Ngh. Gonna kill me with this soft nonsense, you are. Warned you last night.” </p><p>“I do believe you’ll survive it,” Aziraphale said, smiling gently and squeezing Crowley’s hand once more. “Now, ah, I believe we oughtn’t spend all day in bed, much as I’d like to.” </p><p>“Probably right,” Crowley said, running a hand through his hair and glancing around the room. “Especially not here, with them.” </p><p>Aziraphale frowned. “Miss Device seemed like a perfectly lovely woman. And she let us spend the night, three complete strangers.” </p><p>“She knew we were looking for Mary Hodges,” Crowley said. “I don’t trust that.” </p><p>“That is a fair point,” Aziraphale said. “Still. Perhaps we’re not the only people to have come through here in such a state.” </p><p>Crowley just grumbled something indecipherable, looking away. </p><p>“Right, then,” Aziraphale said, pulling his hand as gently as he could manage from Crowley’s and clambering slowly out of bed. Everything still hurt, almost more than it had last night, but he’d be damned before he let such a silly thing stop him. “Well. We ought to get a bit of a wiggle on, then, yes? I would hate to hold anyone up.” </p><p>“No wiggling of any sort from you,” Crowley said, rolling out of bed and over to the bags without bothering to stand up properly. “Not until you’re better.” </p><p>Aziraphale grimaced. “Ah, yes. I believe it’s just the two ribs broken, this time, which is a relief, though I’d prefer to avoid making it worse.” </p><p>Crowley looked up at him sharply, a frown spreading across his face. “Shit, they really are broken? I was hoping... D’you want to go to hospital, then?” </p><p>“Oh, it’s not like there’s anything to be done for it,” Aziraphale said, waving his hand lightly. “There’s no way to set such things, after all. All a hospital could do is tell me that my ribs are, indeed, broken, which I already know, and advise me not to wiggle them around too much, which I don’t intend to do anyway.” </p><p>Crowley’s frown deepened as he held a bundle of clothes out for Aziraphale. “I really don’t like how sure you are about this.” </p><p>Aziraphale sighed, taking the little pile of rather wrinkled cloth– it looked like a proper outfit for himself, and he felt a little pang of gratitude towards Crowley for picking it out so easily, which made him feel all the more wretched as he said, “It wasn’t often that Gabriel let me see doctors, but when he did, they were often about as helpful as the police had been, and thus… And besides that, hospital records are sure to be among the first places that Gabriel and Lucian check. If we’re meant to stay under the radar, then we likely ought to avoid places that require us to provide identification.” </p><p>Crowley let out a quiet growl of frustration. “I don’t like this at all, I just wanna say. Promise me if it gets any worse, you’ll let me know, and we’ll go see someone? Please?” </p><p>Aziraphale smiled over at Crowley, as warmly as he could manage. “I promise, dear. Until then… shall we?” </p><p>“Angel…” </p><p>“Crowley, please, let’s just…” Aziraphale sighed, closing his eyes briefly. “I promise, I will let you know if it gets any worse. But, for now, as I am <i>doing all right</i> at the moment, I would much prefer to go check on Warlock.” Then he paused, his eyes flying open, as a jolt of fear shot down his spine. He and Crowley were… how much had things changed, due to their… confessions, last night? Were they together? Did Aziraphale need to…? “U-unless, of course, you– you think it truly necessary…” </p><p>“I trust you, angel,” Crowley said, reaching out and resting a gentle hand on top of Aziraphale’s. “And you’re probably right about Warlock. I’m just… worried.” </p><p>“As I said, I’m all right,” Aziraphale said, and it was hardly even a lie. </p><p>He and Crowley got dressed fairly quickly, though Crowley ended up needing to help Aziraphale rather more than the latter would have liked (which was, frankly, Aziraphale’s own fault. He’d rather misinterpreted his own capabilities based on the last time his ribs had broken, when he’d largely been confined to Gabriel’s bed for the week or so after, due to... various other factors, or the time before that, when he actually <i>had</i> been in hospital while his leg healed up), before they made their way downstairs. </p><p>It seemed as though everyone else were already up and moving– there were sounds and quiet voices from what seemed to be the kitchen, and in the sitting room, Warlock was sitting upright on the sofa, their eyes glued to the television. </p><p>“Warlock, my dear,” Aziraphale said, hurrying over to sit beside them. “Good morning. How are you? Did you get enough sleep?” </p><p>“G’mng,” Warlock grumbled, leaning into Aziraphale’s side and wrapping an arm around him. </p><p>Aziraphale bit back a wince at the flare of pain that caused. </p><p>“Hey, kiddo,” Crowley said, sitting down on Warlock’s other side. “Where are Bike Girl and Lizard?” </p><p>“Anathema and Newt,” Aziraphale corrected, shooting Crowley a reproachful glance over Warlock’s head and wincing as their arm tightened again. “We’re in their home, love, the least you can do is be respectful.” </p><p>“Ehh,” Crowley said, wrapping an arm around Warlock and tugging them off of Aziraphale. “C’mon, Warlock, my turn for a hug. How’s it going, this morning? Sofa comfortable enough?” </p><p>“It was fine,” Warlock said, leaning happily into Crowley’s side instead, and Aziraphale gave Crowley a small, relieved smile. “I’m okay. I think Newt’s making breakfast for everybody, and I dunno what Anathema’s doing.” </p><p>“For everybody?” Crowley asked. Despite the glasses in the way, Aziraphale thought that his gaze might have softened. </p><p>Warlock shrugged. “He asked how I take my eggs, and if I know how you guys take yours.” </p><p>“Oh!” Aziraphale said, jumping up. “I’ll go offer to help, then.” </p><p>“Angel–” Crowley protested, but Aziraphale pretended not to hear him, bustling off towards the kitchen. </p><p>Sure enough, Newt was there, standing over the stove, with Anathema sat over at the island, reading some sort of magazine that seemed to be called <i>The New Aquarian</i>. </p><p>“Good morning,” Aziraphale said, hovering somewhat awkwardly in the doorway. </p><p>“Hey!” Anathema said, setting down the magazine and beaming over at Aziraphale. </p><p>Newt shot a much quicker and more nervous smile over his shoulder, though it seemed as though quick and nervous was more his general state of being than anything else. “Morning, Mr. Fell. Uh, how do you and Mr. Crowley take your eggs?” </p><p>“I’m not at all particular, thank you,” Aziraphale said. “Crowley prefers the as runny as you can manage. Might I help at all?” </p><p>“I’m good,” Newt said. “Thanks, though.” </p><p>Aziraphale shifted slightly, folding his hands in front of himself. “I, um, wanted to say thank you again for letting us impose on you for the night…” </p><p>“You weren’t imposing at all,” Anathema said, gesturing Aziraphale over to the island and patting the stool beside her. “C’mon, sit down, you look exhausted still.” </p><p>“Oh, I’m quite all right, thank you,” said Aziraphale, smiling as warmly as he could manage at her. </p><p>Anathema just raised a skeptical brow at him and patted the stool once again. </p><p>“How’d you end up in Tadfield, Mr. Fell?” Newt asked, as Aziraphale crossed the kitchen rather hesitantly. </p><p>“Oh,” Aziraphale said, glancing over at Anathema. She had already worked out at least some of it, though Aziraphale wasn’t entirely certain how much… “Ah. Crowley and I were looking for a Miss Mary Hodges, who I’m told lives in the area.” </p><p>“Mary? She’s on holiday in the States until October,” Newt said. “Isn’t she?” </p><p>“Yup,” Anathema said. She turned to Aziraphale. “Are you guys gonna stay here until she gets back, then?” </p><p>Aziraphale felt a cold panic creeping over him. Two months… well, Anathema had said it last night, but he had hardly even registered it then. Two months was quite a long time… </p><p>“I, ah. I’m not sure. Crowley and I would– would have to talk about it, of course, and then there’s the matter of Warlock’s schooling, and–” </p><p>“So you’re not just here for a social call,” Anathema surmised. </p><p>Aziraphale flushed slightly. “We, ah. Well– well, we– it– um–” </p><p>“We know what Mary does,” Newt said, glancing over his shoulder at Aziraphale again. “Helping desperate people out of bad situations.” </p><p>“Seems like you guys need it,” Anathema said gently, her eyes roving over the myriad bruises decorating Aziraphale’s face. </p><p>Aziraphale felt his flush deepen. “We– well, perhaps things weren’t... the best, but– but we’re quite all right, thank you–” </p><p>“Some of Mary’s friends are still here, aren’t they, Newt?” Anathema asked. “The Shadwells. They should be able to help.” </p><p>“Oh, that– that’s quite all right–” Aziraphale said, flustered beyond all belief now. </p><p>“We won’t push you to go see them,” said Newt quickly. “But, if you wanted that kind of help, and didn’t want to wait for two whole months to get it…” </p><p>Aziraphale chewed nervously on his lip, then stopped as the sharp tang of blood filled his mouth yet again. “I, um. I really ought to talk to Crowley about it. I, I’m sure these Shadwells are quite lovely, but…” </p><p>“That’s okay,” Anathema said. “There’s no pressure here.” </p><p>“Breakfast is ready,” said Newt, turning away from the stove with three plates balanced in his hands. “We can ask Crowley what he thinks afterwards?” </p><p>“That sounds lovely,” Aziraphale said, smiling as warmly as he could manage. “Thank you, my dear boy.” </p><p>Breakfast went much better than Aziraphale had been afraid it would. As it turned out, Anathema ran a little occult shop in the village, and Newt used to be a computer programmer before the two got together, though he claimed to never have been very good at it. Warlock ended up dominating a good portion of the conversation, discussing a film they’d seen not long ago which seemed, based upon their description, to be largely about alien pirates and an amorphous pink blob. It was all so calm, so strangely domestic, that it left Aziraphale feeling oddly wrong-footed, off-balance. It was lovely, of course, absolutely wonderful, but... </p><p>But he couldn’t help but wonder exactly how long it would take for this strange sort of peace to fall apart. </p><p>Before long, the dishes were cleared away, and Anathema and Newt had both pushed Aziraphale quite firmly away from the washing-up with pointed looks at the bandages still wrapped around his wrists. </p><p>“We probably ought to change those,” Crowley said, leading Aziraphale upstairs. </p><p>“Yes, quite,” Aziraphale said, letting himself be pulled along. </p><p>As soon as the door to the spare bedroom swung shut, Aziraphale tugged Crowley around to face him. “Crowley, love, what… what do we do now?” </p><p>Crowley winced, his hand squeezing Aziraphale’s almost convulsively. “I don’t… I don’t know. If Hodges really is out of the country for two more months…” </p><p>“That’s what Anathema and Newt said, when I talked to them earlier,” Aziraphale said. “They, ah… they also mentioned someone called Shadwell? Or, rather, multiple someones– it sounded like they were a family. Anathema said that the Shadwells… also do the sort of thing that Miss Hodges does.” </p><p>Crowley frowned, scrunching his nose up a little bit, and Aziraphale felt almost dizzy with how much he loved him in that moment. “Shadwell… I know that name. Don’t remember how I know it, though.” </p><p>“Do you think that we can trust them?” Aziraphale asked softly. </p><p>“The Shadwells?” Crowley asked. “Or do you mean Bike Girl and Lizard?” </p><p>“Anathema and Newton, dear,” Aziraphale admonished. “And, erm, both, I suppose. After all, our hosts were both so lovely last night, and this morning, and they’ve been nothing but kind and accommodating towards us, but…” </p><p>“But they’re strangers, and they know enough to know about Mary Hodges, and we’re in a bad enough spot already,” Crowley finished, gently unwrapping one of Aziraphale’s wrists. </p><p>“Quite,” Aziraphale said, nodding. “Not to mention– <i>ow</i>– no, no, don’t worry, I’m all right, just twisted myself a bit too far– not to mention the fact that, by being here, we’re rather putting them in danger, as well.” </p><p>“‘Course that’s what you’re worried about,” Crowley snorted. “God, I love you, angel. They’ll be fine. As long as we don’t tell them anything Lucian or Gabriel could use, they won’t care.” </p><p>Aziraphale let out a soft sigh, grimacing slightly as the motion aggravated his ribs yet again. Was there nothing he could do comfortably at the moment? “How long can we stay here? Warlock is meant to start school soon, and they need to be able to make friends their own age. But, at the same time, I should hate to think what would happen if we were found because we didn’t go far enough…” </p><p>“We’ll talk to these Shadwells, yeah?” Crowley said. “See what they have to say. We probably will have to stay in England, at least until we know whether or not they’re watching the ports of entry, but there are loads of little backwater villages where we can probably lie low. Not sure I trust most of the other proper cities in England, I think Lucian has contacts in a lot of places, but we’ll see, yeah?” </p><p>“I suppose we will,” Aziraphale said, catching one of Crowley’s hands in his own and squeezing it gently. </p><p>Crowley looked up at him, carefully pulling off his glasses and setting them aside. “Angel, can I..?” His voice dropped off, and he stared at Aziraphale for a long, long moment. </p><p>“Can you what?” Aziraphale asked, tilting his head slightly. </p><p>“Can I kiss you again?” Crowley asked in one quick breath. </p><p>Aziraphale nodded. “Yes. Yes, love, when– whenever you like.” </p><p>“Oh thank <i>fuck</i>,” Crowley breathed, leaning in. </p><p>Aziraphale closed his eyes, melting into the kiss. Crowley was so… so different, from Gabriel. It wasn’t just the taste of him, the odd smokiness under the last vestiges of egg and coffee, though that was certainly miles away from anything else Aziraphale had known. It was… </p><p>Crowley was so <i>gentle</i>, so <i>careful</i>. His lips were so… so soft, and warm, and Aziraphale quickly lost himself in them, in the easy, chaste press of their kisses. </p><p>It almost made him nervous, to be entirely honest. How gentle Crowley was being. How kind. He’d never… never had that. Never before had someone be so <i>careful</i> with him, treat him like he was something fragile, something almost... precious. He was just waiting, he knew, waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for the moment when he did something wrong, the moment when Crowley realised that Aziraphale wasn’t worth this, wasn’t worth <i>any</i> of this. </p><p>He’d just have to be careful, Aziraphale decided. He couldn’t let his useless stubborn streak, his naïveté and utter obliviousness, get in the way. He would do better, this time around. <i>Be</i> better. Be everything that Crowley deserved. </p><p>He had to be. </p><p>After what felt like hours, but could never have been nearly long enough, Crowley drew back, reaching up with his free hand to cup Aziraphale’s cheek and press their foreheads together. </p><p>“Shit, Aziraphale…” he breathed. </p><p>“I love you, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, suddenly desperate to express it, to make Crowley <i>understand</i>. “I love you, oh, I love you so much…” </p><p>“I love you, too,” Crowley said, pressing a last, lingering kiss to Aziraphale’s lips before pulling away entirely to slide his glasses back on and take hold of Aziraphale’s wrist once more. “Now, c’mon, we’ve gotta get these wrapped up, yeah?” </p><p>### </p><p>Warlock sat in the little cottage’s living room, their gaze bouncing disinterestedly between their phone and the TV, when a knock sounded at the door. </p><p>They jumped up, their breath catching in their throat, as Anathema emerged from the kitchen. </p><p>“Don’t worry,” she said to Warlock as she made her way over to the door. “That’ll just be some of the kids who live in the village. Do you want to meet them?” </p><p>Before Warlock could respond, Anathema tugged the door open, and four kids who seemed to be about Warlock’s age and a small dog all flooded into the cottage. </p><p>The leader– he was about Warlock’s height, though he was a bit broader, with a mop of fluffy golden-brown hair and blue eyes– stopped in the door to the living room, meeting Warlock’s eyes. </p><p>“Who’s that, Anathema?” he asked. </p><p>“Who’re <i>you</i>?” Warlock demanded, folding their arms. </p><p>“I’m Adam,” the leader said. “These are Pepper–” the girl directly behind him, with a red raincoat, brown skin, and fluffy black hair– “Brian–” the tallest boy, his pale, freckled face smudged with dirt already– “and Wensleydale.” He pointed to the last boy, who was the smallest of the group, and looked a lot like how Warlock assumed Pop had looked when he was Warlock’s age. </p><p>“I’m Warlock,” Warlock said, unfolding their arms slowly. “What’s your dog’s name?” </p><p>“Dog,” Adam said. </p><p>“That’s a weird name for a dog,” Warlock said, bending down and stretching out a hand towards the animal. </p><p>Dog bounded over, sniffed Warlock’s hand, then immediately set to licking it thoroughly. </p><p>Is your name really Warlock?” Adam asked. “That’s wicked.” </p><p>“Are you actually a warlock?” Wensleydale asked as all four of the newcomers made their way into the living room, settling in like they came here all the time. </p><p>“No,” Warlock said. </p><p>“You are American,” Brian said. “My dad said that all Americans are stupid witches.” </p><p>“That is definitely not what he said,” Pepper said. She turned to Warlock firmly. “How many flavours of ice cream are there in America?” </p><p>Warlock blinked, scratching Dog behind the ears. “Um. I dunno. I don’t spend a whole lot of time there, really. I think I’ve seen… more than forty? I’m not sure.” </p><p>“More than <i>forty</i>?” Brian demanded. “No way!” </p><p>“Actually, America is a very big country,” said Wensleydale. “Maybe the bigger a country is, the more flavours of ice cream it has.” </p><p>“I don’t think that’s how it works,” said Warlock slowly. </p><p>“Dog really likes you,” said Adam. “He doesn’t usually like new people very much. Or, well, I think he doesn’t. I haven’t had him very long yet.” </p><p>“Adam got Dog for his birthday, which just isn’t fair,” said Pepper. “I got a stupid girl’s bike!” </p><p>“But you are a girl, Pepper,” Brian said. </p><p>Pepper glared at him. “That’s just sexist.” </p><p>“Hey, Warlock,” said Adam. “We’re gonna go play the British Inquisition in the wood. D’you wanna come with us?” </p><p>“Maybe you can be the witch!” Brian said. “Since your name is Warlock, an’ all.” </p><p>“Actually, I think a warlock is just a boy witch,” said Wensleydale. “So it would work.” </p><p>“No, they’re something different,” said Adam. “Warlocks are different than witches.” </p><p>“It doesn’t matter,” Warlock said, letting go of Dog to stare down at their hands, an embarrassed flush already heating up their face. “I’m not a boy, anyways.” </p><p>“You’re not?” Brian asked. “What are you, then?” </p><p>“I’m nonbinary,” Warlock said, ducking their head further. “I use they and them. Not he.” </p><p>There was a brief silence, and Warlock almost wished they could melt through the floor. </p><p>Then Pepper said, “Well, my mum says that the gender binary is just an imperialist relic that does significant damage to minority cultures.” </p><p>“Your mom sounds cool,” said Warlock, smiling briefly up at Pepper. “And a lot like my dad.” </p><p>“Oh! Maybe they can be friends,” said Pepper. “My mum needs more friends.” </p><p>“She does,” said Brian. </p><p>“Shut up,” Pepper retorted, rolling her eyes. </p><p>“So we should actually call you ‘they’ instead of ‘he’?” Adam asked. </p><p>“Yeah,” Warlock said. “Yes. Thanks.” </p><p>“Got it,” said Adam. “So do you wanna come play British Inquisition with us?” </p><p>Warlock frowned. “I need to ask my dads if it’s okay first.” </p><p>“Your dads?” Brian asked, as Warlock stood up and made their way over to the stairs. “You have more than one dad?” </p><p>“I have two mums!” Pepper said. “You know how being gay works, Brian.” </p><p>Warlock tuned them out, hurrying towards the spare bedroom where his dads were hiding and knocking on the door. </p><p>“Come in,” Pop called, and Warlock obeyed. </p><p>They were both sitting on the bed, pressed up against each other and holding hands. </p><p>“There are a whole bunch of kids here who want me to go play British Inquisition with them,” said Warlock. “Can I?” </p><p>Dad and Pop glanced at each other, just for a moment. </p><p>“They need friends, love,” Pop said quietly. </p><p>Dad looked over at Warlock. “Is your mobile charged?” </p><p>“Yeah, but you left your phone at the bookshop,” Warlock said, frowning. </p><p>“Shit,” Dad muttered. “Need to replace that thing.” </p><p>“They’re all really nice,” said Warlock. “They know how to use my pronouns already, and they didn’t care that my name was weird.” </p><p>“That is, in all honesty, a point in these children’s favour,” Pop said softly. </p><p>Dad sighed heavily, then stood up and crossed the room to stand in front of Warlock. “Promise me, if anything at all happens that scares you, or if you see any adults that look like the photos I showed you last night, you’ll come straight back here?” </p><p>“You showed Warlock photographs of… of our old sides?” Pop asked, and he sounded almost upset. </p><p>“They’re as much a part of this as we are,” said Crowley. </p><p>“I hit the poo man! Remember?” Warlock pointed out. </p><p>Dad snorted. </p><p>“I do remember,” Pop said softly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Oh, Lord. Warlock… do as your father says, all right? And be back here in time for supper.” </p><p>“We’re staying ‘till supper, then?” Dad asked, glancing at Pop over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised over his glasses. </p><p>“Dear,” Pop said. </p><p>“Right,” Dad said, pulling Warlock into a hug. “Fine. All right. You can go out and play… what was it, the British Inquisition? What a game. Remind me to tell you about the real Spanish Inquisition some time.” </p><p>“Crowley, Warlock is <i>eleven</i>,” Pop admonished. </p><p>“I’ll be careful,” Warlock promised, squeezing their dad close before disentangling themself. “I promise. Love you guys!” </p><p>And with that, they bounded back downstairs and burst into the living room. </p><p>“My dads said yes!” they announced. “What’s the British Inquisition?” </p><p>“It goes like this,” said Pepper, before pointing dramatically at Wensleydale. “Art thou a witch? Oh lay!” </p><p>### </p><p>Crowley watched as Warlock scampered down the stairs, then turned to face Aziraphale, sighing. “I really need to get a new bloody mobile.” </p><p>“Perhaps we can ask Anathema and Newton if there are any shops in the village that might have that sort of thing,” Aziraphale said, standing up carefully from the bed and testing the flex of his new bandages. “I probably ought to get one, too, oughtn’t I? Join you in the modern age, as you say.” </p><p>“Can’t hurt,” Crowley said, crossing over to Aziraphale’s side. “Sit down, angel, you’re gonna hurt yourself. I’ll go see if I can scrounge up more ice–” </p><p>“Crowley, I’m fine,” Aziraphale said. </p><p>“Stop saying that!” Crowley said, rolling his eyes. He was starting to get more than a little frustrated with Aziraphale’s bull-headed stubbornness. “Look at you, you’re not fine. You’re obviously not fine. Just sit down.” </p><p>Aziraphale’s eyes were wide, and he raised one bandage-wrapped hand towards Crowley. “Love, please, I’m–” </p><p>“For fuck’s sake, you literally have multiple broken bones, your bruises are getting worse, and you’ve been limping all morning,” Crowley snapped. “You’re not <i>fine</i>, so stop bloody pretending!” </p><p>Aziraphale flinched back, his legs bumping into the bed and making him fall down onto it as he curled into himself, wincing. </p><p>Guilt hit Crowley like a punch to the gut, and he dropped down to his knees next to the bed, folding his hands in close to himself. “Shit, Aziraphale, I’m sorry. I didn’t– I didn’t mean to shout, I– I’m sorry,” </p><p>“Don’t be,” Aziraphale said, his voice just a little bit too shaky for comfort. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have… shouldn’t have argued. I thought- Im sorry, I’m trying, I promise, I just…” </p><p>“What do you mean, shouldn’t have argued?” Crowley asked, frowning. “We argue all the time. It doesn’t matter to me, not really. I just don’t want you to get hurt.” </p><p>“But it does matter,” Aziraphale said, shaking his head. “We’re... we’re something, now, and so... I’m trying, I promise, I really am, but you’ve already been so patient with me… I’m doing my best to learn the rules, but they’re just so– so <i>different</i>, I don’t… I’m sorry. I’ll do better, I promise.” </p><p>“Rules?” Crowley leant forwards, his hands resting on Aziraphale’s knees almost unconsciously. “What rules?” </p><p>Aziraphale opened his mouth to respond. </p><p>“Hey! How’re you two doing in here?” Anathema’s voice rang out, making Crowley jump. </p><p>“We’re lovely, thank you ever so much,” Aziraphale said, jumping to his feet and smiling quite broadly, as though he had not just been on the verge of tears. </p><p>“Right,” said Anathema, clapping her hands together, and Aziraphale flinched ever so slightly. “Let’s go talk to the Shadwells, then. I let them know we’re coming over.” </p><p>“We, as in…?” Crowley asked, standing up and slipping his hand into Aziraphale’s, hoping desperately that he hadn’t fucked up badly enough that he was no longer welcome to do that. </p><p>“Me, Newt, and you two,” said Anathema. “Newt used to work for Ron, after his last computer gig fell through but before we moved in together.” </p><p>Crowley frowned. Ron Shadwell. He definitely knew that name. Just wasn’t sure how… </p><p>“Well, we’d best get a bit of a wiggle on, then,” Aziraphale said, squeezing Crowley’s hand lightly before tugging him towards the stairs, and Crowley fought back a relieved grin. They’d get through whatever idiot thing he’d done, just like they always had. He and Aziraphale were together now, and nothing could stop that. </p><p>Anathema led them downstairs and out onto the street, where Newt was waiting for them, and then up the road, away from the village centre. </p><p>“How long of a walk is it?” Crowley asked, glancing over at Aziraphale, who’d had enough trouble with the stairs already. </p><p>“They’re two houses down,” said Anathema, looking back at them, her eyes scanning over the bruises still visible on Aziraphale’s face and neck. </p><p>“Will that be okay?” Newt asked. “Or should we take Dick Turpin?” </p><p>“The car,” Anathema said. “Just say the car, babe.” </p><p>“Do you really call your car Dick Turpin?” Crowley asked, frowning. </p><p>“My dear, you are hardly in a position to judge, with how you dote on the Bentley,” Aziraphale said. “I’ll be just fine, dear girl. Don’t you worry about me.” </p><p>“Angel…” Crowley said quietly. </p><p>“I’ll be all right,” Aziraphale replied, squeezing Crowley’s hand. It sounded as though he was trying to convince himself. </p><p>“Right, then,” Anathema said. “Let’s go.” </p><p>She took off, striding purposefully away, and Aziraphale followed after her, letting go of Crowley’s hand to do so. </p><p>Newt fell into step on Crowley’s other side and said quietly, “I’m… sorry about that. She can be kind of… I don’t wanna say gullible, exactly…” </p><p>“I know what you mean,” Crowley muttered back, carefully positioning himself behind Aziraphale. Just in case. </p><p>He was doing a damn good job of hiding his limp. </p><p>“It’s part of why we love them, though, isn’t it?” Newt asked, flashing a nervous-looking grin– though, Crowley sort of figured that nervous was just how Newt looked all the time. “Anathema wouldn’t be Anathema without all the conspiracy theories and witchy stuff. It might drive me mad, but…” </p><p>“If Aziraphale didn’t still believe that everyone’s got a spark of goodness in them… well, I sure as hell wouldn’t be here with him now,” Crowley muttered, casting an almost wary eye Newt’s way. </p><p>“I think I want to believe that,” Newt said, frowning. “I want to believe in a whole lot of things, actually, but I can never quite seem to manage it.” </p><p>“Figure it doesn’t matter much what you believe in,” Crowley said. “What matters more is what you do.” </p><p>Newt nodded. “Now that’s something to believe.” </p><p>There was a moment of silence– or, well, it seemed that Anathema and Aziraphale had somehow gotten onto the topic of prophecies, and were eagerly discussing it as Newt and Crowley watched from behind, Crowley ready to offer a hand if Aziraphale showed any sign of needing it. </p><p>“How, um,” Newt said slowly. “How did… all that… happen?” </p><p>“The bruises, you mean?” Crowley asked. </p><p>Newt nodded. </p><p>Crowley sighed. “It’s not really my story to tell. Suffice it to say, Aziraphale was in a really bad place when I met him. Worse than I ever imagined. And he left, and so did I, and now we’ve got some very dangerous people on our tails.” </p><p>“You rescued him from a bad... relationship?” Newt asked. </p><p>“Nah,” Crowley said, smiling at the back of Aziraphale’s head, even though his angel couldn’t see it. Because his angel couldn’t see it, and nobody needed to see how bloody soppy he looked at the moment. “He rescued himself. I was just… a voice of reason, I guess. There to catch him, in case he fell.” </p><p>“You seem like you’re good for each other,” Newt said. </p><p>Crowley’s stupid, dopey smile widened. “You know, I really hope you’re right.” </p><p>“Right,” Anathema said, stopping in front of a little one-story bungalow. “This is them. Newt, c’mon up, I’ll let you handle Mr. Shadwell.” </p><p>“Okay,” Newt said, making his way up to the door and knocking loudly. </p><p>Crowley carefully slid his hand back into Aziraphale’s. “You all right? Honestly. How bad is it?” </p><p>“Not quite as bad as I was afraid it would be,” Aziraphale said, leaning rather heavily into Crowley’s side as they joined Newt and Anathema on the stoop. “Though, I must admit, I would be more than glad to sit down.” </p><p>“I’ll find you a seat,” Crowley promised. </p><p>Then the door swung open, revealing an old, balding man wearing a rather grimy-looking overcoat as he said in rather thick Northern accent, “What is it?” </p><p>“Mr. Shadwell,” Newt said. “Uh, Anathema and I brought the new friends we were talking about?” </p><p><i>Friends?</i> Crowley glanced over at Aziraphale, who seemed just as taken aback by the word as he was. </p><p>“Ah, right,” said Shadwell. “Ye‘ll be wanting the harlot, then.” He turned and called over his shoulder, “Oi! Jezebel! There’s a couple o’ strangers here to see ya!” </p><p>“I’ll be right over, Ron,” a woman’s voice responded, and Crowley saw Aziraphale’s jaw drop. </p><p>“No,” he said, taking a step forwards. “It can’t possibly be…?” </p><p>“All right, love, run along now, there’s a dear,” the woman’s voice said as she gently pushed the old man out of the way. She was small, with short, bright red hair and light eyes, wearing a bright green silk robe and an overabundance of makeup, and when she saw Aziraphale, her jaw dropped too. </p><p>“Tracy?” Aziraphale asked. </p><p>“Az?” the woman said. </p><p>And then they were embracing, and the woman was laughing brightly. </p><p>“Oh, dear, I never thought I’d see you again,” Aziraphale said as he stepped back, a broad grin spread across his face. </p><p>“Neither did I,” the woman– Tracy, Aziraphale’s Tracy, Crowley realised, the woman from the story he’d told the other night– said. “Oh, look at you. Come in, sit down. We’ll all have a nice cup of tea, and you can catch me up on everything I’ve missed since I left London.” At that point, her eyes landed on Crowley, and she looked him up and down. “Who’s this young man of yours?” </p><p>“Oh, this is Anthony Crowley,” Aziraphale said, reaching out to take Crowley’s hand once more, and Crowley stepped in closer, letting Aziraphale lean into him once more. “He, ah… he’s rather the reason I’m not in London anymore, either.” </p><p>“Go on in, sit down,” Tracy said, gesturing for everyone to head inside, and Crowley obliged, helping Aziraphale towards one of the overstuffed sofas and helping him down as gently as he could. </p><p>Before he could sit, though, Crowley felt a hand around his arm, tugging him to the side. “Mr. Crowley, would you be a dear and help me get the tea together?” </p><p>“You all right, there, angel?” Crowley asked, glancing down at Aziraphale. </p><p>Aziraphale nodded and smiled. “Of course, love.” </p><p>Crowley nodded, and let Tracy pull him towards the kitchen. </p><p>The bungalow seemed to be laid out much like a smaller version of Anathema and Newt’s cottage, if the positions of the sitting room and the kitchen were anything to go by. </p><p>As soon as he and Tracy were alone and out of earshot of the others, she rounded on him. </p><p>“Did Gabriel give him all those bruises?” she demanded. </p><p>Crowley nodded. “It was… bad.” </p><p>“Did you help him escape, then?” Tracy asked. </p><p>“He did the escaping himself,” Crowley reiterated. “I just helped him see that it was possible.” </p><p>Tracy pursed her lips at him, then set about making the tea. “You called him angel, back there.” </p><p>“Well, he is one, isn’t he?” Crowley asked. “You’re the one who helped him the first time around, aren’t you?” </p><p>Tracy sighed. “I did my best.” </p><p>“Then you know,” Crowley said. “He is an angel.” </p><p>“And he called you love. He doesn’t use that word lightly, you know. I’m not sure he’s heard it directed towards him… ever, to be honest.” </p><p>Crowley felt that like a punch to the stomach. “He has now. I said it. To him. And he said it back. I love him. So bloody much.” </p><p>Tracy turned away from the kettle and looked up at Crowley, meeting his eyes through the sunglasses, somehow. “Do you really?” </p><p>“I do,” Crowley said immediately. “I love him more than <i>anything</i>. And… I know why you pulled me aside, why you’re interrogating me, and, honestly? I am so bloody glad to know that he’s got someone else looking out for him, now. I– I know I’m not perfect. He knows it, too. But I would rather die than hurt him, or let him get hurt again. He deserves… he deserves so, so, so much better than he’s had. And I swear, I will do anything it takes to make sure he gets that.” </p><p>A broad smile broke across Tracy’s face. “Mr. Crowley, I think you and I are going to get on very well indeed.” </p><p>Crowley grinned back. “I hope we will.” </p><p>It didn’t take long for the tea to be ready, and then Crowley helped Tracy load it up onto a tray, alongside milk, sugar, lemon, and, for some reason, a can of condensed milk. </p><p>As they walked back out into the sitting room, Crowley noticed that Shadwell was sitting in a recliner that was definitely old and ratty enough to match the rest of his appearance, and he was leaning towards Aziraphale, who was otherwise alone. “Now, most important question: how many nipples have ya got?” </p><p>Aziraphale blinked. “I beg your pardon?” </p><p>“Nipples,” said the man. “How many?” </p><p>“Now, Ron,” Tracy said, setting the tea-tray down as Crowley plopped down next to Aziraphale, wrapping one arm around his shoulders and sprawling his legs out as comfortably as he could manage. </p><p>“Not now, jezebel, I’m just making sure there’s nae signs o’ witchcraft ‘round these new folks here. It's been seven years since we've seen the pansy, who knows what sorts of occult wiles he's got caught in?” </p><p>Something clicked in Crowley’s brain. “That’s how I know your name! Ron Shadwell! You were the... that... that witchfinder thingy.” </p><p>“Aye, the Witchfinder Army,” said Shadwell, squinting at Crowley. “A noble pursuit. Young Private Pulsifer could have had a solid career in it, if he hadn’t gone and slept with the witch he’d found.” Then Shadwell’s eyes went <i>wide</i>. “Mister Crowley! It’s been a very long time. How’s Mister Sterling?” </p><p>Crowley grimaced. “Probably not great. He’s currently trying to kill me.” </p><p>“Oh,” said Shadwell, blinking. “Well. Right good thing ya came here, then. Ye’ll have the might of the Witchfinder Army behind ye.” </p><p>“Rrrright,” Crowley said slowly. “Well.” </p><p>Tracy pushed a teacup into Shadwell’s hands, then, and nudged him gently with her hip. “Go on, love, go back to your gardening. I’ve got a handle on this.” </p><p>“I’ll no be ordered around in my own home by you, you scarlet woman!” Shadwell grumbled, standing up obediently and shuffling out of the room as Tracy sank down into the very overstuffed and somewhat exceedingly bright armchair beside the recliner. </p><p>“Well,” said Aziraphale slowly. “He’s, ah, just as I remember him.” </p><p>“Hasn’t changed a bit in nearly forty years, my Ron,” said Tracy, with such affection in her voice, Crowley almost couldn’t believe it. </p><p>Then Aziraphale’s words sank in, and Crowley whipped around to face him. “Hang on. How do <i>you</i> know Shadwell?” </p><p>“He used to live across the hall from Tracy,” said Aziraphale, leaning towards the tea tray, then wincing. </p><p>Crowley sat up, letting his hand linger on Aziraphale’s shoulder for just a moment before he leaned forwards, making up a cup of tea exactly as Aziraphale liked it. He noticed that the condensed milk had been opened, and wondered for a moment more about the mental state of the man who’d just left them. </p><p><i>On that note…</i> “Where did Bike Girl and Lizard go?” </p><p>“<i>Anathema</i> and <i>Newt</i> went back to the cottage,” Aziraphale said, his reproachful frown dissolving like fairy floss in water as Crowley handed him the teacup. “Thank you, my dear. They thought that, as I know Tracy already, and these are… somewhat private matters, it would be best if they left us alone for the time being. And, after it, it’s unlikely that we’ll get lost going such a small distance.” </p><p>“They are such lovely young people,” said Tracy, smiling and settling back with her own tea made. “Now. Az, love, I think it’s best we… start at the beginning, yes? What happened that evening, when that man dragged you away?” </p><p>Aziraphale shuddered, and Crowley quickly shifted to wrap an arm around him again, holding him close, only mildly terrified that he would aggravate his angel’s injuries somehow. </p><p>“Well,” Aziraphale said softly, “you can see what sort of a state I’m in now. It was, ah… it was like this, for about… about a week. Though he didn’t let me leave the flat for a good bit longer… and by the time I was finally able to return to the bookshop unsupervised, you had long since gone.” He looked up at her, his eyes wide. “I will admit I, ah, feared the worst. He… he didn’t...?” </p><p>“He didn’t hurt me,” said Tracy. “No one laid a finger on me.” </p><p>“Oh, thank heavens,” Aziraphale said, slumping slightly against Crowley. “I should have hated to think that you had suffered due to my mistakes." </p><p>"I didn't suffer at all," Tracy said. "Though Mr. Wright did make it clear that I was expected to leave London before you got back. But, I'd been wanting to get a little bungalow in the country for a time. I had a tidy amount put away, and you know they say two can live as cheaply as one." Then she leaned forwards. "But… what did he do to <i>you</i>? Don't think I didn't hear you offering to take my punishment for me. How badly did he hurt you, dearie?" </p><p>Crowley stared at Aziraphale, horror settling in his stomach. "You offered to…?" </p><p>"You didn't hear the things he was threatening Tracy with," Aziraphale said, shaking his head. "Nor did you hear what he threatened to do to you, my dear. I couldn't let him do any of it. My, ah, bargaining was rather more successful the first time around, I'm afraid." </p><p>"Don't every do that again," Crowley said, pressing a kiss to Aziraphale's temple before he could think better of it. "Please, Aziraphale, don't ever do something like that again. Especially not for me." </p><p>"I don't suspect that I'll need to," Aziraphale said. "And I have you to thank for that." </p><p>"Oh, that is a good question, as well," Tracy said, leaning forwards almost conspiratorially. "How did you meet your new man?" </p><p>Aziraphale blushed, and Crowley launched into the story, starting with the night they'd met and Aziraphale's rather timely rescue and winding his way towards the past week, at which point Aziraphale jumped in, adding in his perspective on events. </p><p>"And then, of course," Aziraphale said, "when Warlock's parents rejected them, we could hardly let them be hurt. And, ah, that was rather the kick in the pants I needed, I suppose." </p><p>"Like I said," Crowley said, smiling down at Aziraphale. "He did all the escaping himself. I was just there to catch him." </p><p>"Give yourself more credit," said Aziraphale. "You were the one who showed me it was possible." </p><p>"Oh, how lovely," Tracy said, beaming. "So, you two brought your Warlock with you and left London?" </p><p>"Yes," Aziraphale said, nodding. "Though, before we managed to leave… Gabriel found out about it. Hence…" He gestured to himself. </p><p>"Oh, love," Tracy said. "I'm so sorry." </p><p>"Don't be," Aziraphale said, waving his hand airily. "I'm quite all right. But it does mean that Gabriel and Lucian both are likely after us. Both of us." </p><p>"Yeah, Lucian found the bookshop," said Crowley. "Wouldn't be surprised if he knows about Aziraphale, too." </p><p>"Oh, dear," said Tracy. </p><p>"That's, ah," said Aziraphale. "That is rather why we came by. Miss Device and Mr. Pulsifer said that you and Mr. Shadwell might be able to help?" </p><p>"Well, I can tell you right now that Mr. Sterling doesn't know where Tadfield is," said Tracy. "He was on my Ron's tail for a little while just before we left over the Witchfinder Army commissions, and if he hasn't tracked us down yet, I believe it means that he doesn't know where we are." </p><p>"Yeah, that's probably true," said Crowley. "He was pissed when you ran off. I didn't stop hearing about it for a solid month afterwards." </p><p>"Well, I'm glad to have put a stopper in his plans, the nasty man," said Tracy. </p><p>"I'm afraid Gabriel is likely to be a bigger problem," said Aziraphale. "There are very few things that he isn't willing to do, and I doubt that he intends to let me be." </p><p>"Yeah, Lucian's got a little extra motivation this time, too," said Crowley. "Think I was about eighty percent of his profit." </p><p>"What about your Warlock?" Tracy asked. "Are their parents likely to come after them?" </p><p>"I dunno," said Crowley. "But I don't think that their biological dad could do anything, even if he did manage to track us down. His thing is more… insider trading and low-key bigotry, rather than out-and-out organised violence. And he doesn't have a legal foothold anymore, I emancipated Warlock." </p><p>"You did?" Aziraphale asked. </p><p>Crowley nodded. "And got them a name change. It was technically illegal, but there's no record anywhere of it having been otherwise, so it should hold." </p><p>"Dear," Aziraphale said, his smile fond even as his voice was admonishing. "I do hope that, if we do mean to adopt them, you intend to do it legally." </p><p>"Yeah, no, that sounds like a solid plan," said Crowley. "Warlock agrees, too." </p><p>Aziraphale's eyes went wide. "They do?" </p><p>"They already call us their dads, we just need to make it official," said Crowley. </p><p>"You might want to wait until this all blows over," Tracy said. "If your Warlock is tied to you legally when those two come for you, it might be more dangerous for them." </p><p>Crowley winced. "Ah. Well. We are, technically, listed as their godfathers. For now. Until we make it official." </p><p>Tracy blinked. "Well, then. I suppose adoption can't do much more damage." </p><p>"What do you suggest we do?" Aziraphale asked. "Given that you and Mr. Shadwell have managed to evade detection for so long." </p><p>"Tadfield is a very good place to be…" Tracy said, tilting her head slightly. </p><p>Crowley grimaced. "I'm not sure I want to stay in the first place we stopped." </p><p>"You have allies here, dearie," said Tracy. "Beyond that, it simply isn't worth it to buy out the two law enforcement officers who work here, and they both know that, and the neighbourhood watch has proven itself entirely incorruptible. The people here are quite kind, and the schools are good." </p><p>"I dunno…" Crowley said. </p><p>"If we are to move on, we have to do it before the term starts," said Aziraphale. "And then, wherever we end up, we would need to stay there for the term. I should hate to pull Warlock out of one school and send them to another halfway through." </p><p>"You're right," Crowley said, sighing. "We'll ask them what they think about it, yeah? They're old enough to be part of the decision." </p><p>"If you were to stay here," Tracy said slowly, "well. I couldn't promise that you'd never be found, but I can promise that the people of Tadfield will have your backs." </p><p>"We don't know <i>the people of Tadfield</i>," Crowley pointed out. "We know you and Shadwell, and Bike Girl and Lizard." </p><p>"Upon whose hospitality we are infringing," Aziraphale added softly. </p><p>"Well, then, we'll simply have to introduce you," said Tracy, in a tone that brokered no argument. "And we'll make sure that your Warlock meets the village children, as well. Mister Adam Young and his little gang will be sure to be good to him." </p><p>"Adam?" Crowley asked. "I heard that name earlier. Those're the kids that Warlock went out with earlier." </p><p>Aziraphale nodded slowly. "We… we'll ask them. We'll see how they feel about it." </p><p>"Right, then," Crowley said, letting go of Aziraphale for long enough to stand up. "Tracy, do you want a hand with the tea tray again?" </p><p>"Oh, you both set up, I can–" Aziraphale began, making to stand. </p><p>Tracy just fixed him with a stern stare. "Az, dearie, I know how you are about injuries. You just sit right there for a moment, and Mr. Crowley and I will be finished with the washing up before you know it." </p><p>Crowley scooped the tray up and let Tracy lead them back into the kitchen, where he practically tossed it aside to step closer to her. </p><p>"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice low. "If we stay here, are you absolutely certain that Gabriel won't be able to touch him?" </p><p>"I know that if Gabriel tries, he'll have all of Tadfield to deal with," Tracy said, her voice almost steely, in a way that reminded Crowley of Aziraphale. "I failed him once already, Mr. Crowley, and I don't plan to do so again." </p><p>Almost despite himself, Crowley felt a grin spreading across his face. "You and I are on the same wavelength." </p><p>"The same wavelength?" Tracy asked. </p><p>Crowley's grin turned into a grimace before he could wipe it away. "Yeah. I, uh. While I was hiding at the bookshop, before we could leave… like Aziraphale said, Gabriel found out. He came over, dragged Aziraphale away from the shop, and I… I was too slow. I know he'd been hurt before that, not all of those bruises are recent, but... By the time I found him again, he was… like he is now. And…" </p><p>"Blaming yourself won't get you or Az anywhere," said Tracy, patting Crowley's hand. "Now, let's get this washing up finished, and you can take your <i>angel</i> back home." </p><p>"Oi," Crowley protested, feeling himself grow red immediately, and Tracy just laughed. </p><p>### </p><p>Warlock came back to the cottage minutes before suppertime, their face flushed with glee and their clothes grass-stained, and Aziraphale beamed up at them, relaxing slightly at the sight. He hadn't entirely registered how worried he'd been until he saw them again. </p><p>"Hello, my dear," Aziraphale said as Warlock plopped themself down on the sofa next to him and stretched their legs out. </p><p>Crowley wandered into the sitting room then, holding the mobile he'd been setting up for Aziraphale– as it turned out, there was a shop in town, and he and Anathema had gone while Newt and Aziraphale stayed at the cottage. He grinned at Warlock, sitting down on their opposite side. "You'll need to help me give your pop a lesson in how to work these things." </p><p>"You're getting a phone?" Warlock asked. </p><p>Aziraphale laughed. "I thought that it was about time. We'll need to programme our new numbers into your mobile, won't we? We'll work that out later. How was your day?" </p><p>"How were the new friends?" Crowley added. His voice sounded very carefully casual. </p><p>"It was <i>awesome</i>!" Warlock said, a grin taking over their face. "Adam makes up the best games, and Pepper almost hit Greasy Johnson in the face because he made fun of my name and then I got to have <i>six</i> turns as the witch because my name is Warlock and Brian said…" </p><p>As Warlock's flood of words continued, Aziraphale made eye contact with Crowley over the child's head. If they'd already made friends here, so quickly at that, after so long having no one they could truly trust… </p><p>Crowley nodded, ever so slightly, and Aziraphale reached carefully around Warlock's back, pulling them close and taking Crowley's hand in one. </p><p>
  <i>Tadfield it is, then. Heaven help us.</i>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you guys so so much for reading, and I'll have the next chapter out as soon as I can! </p><p>Also: I do have an estimate for the number of chapters left, though I make no guarantees. We’ll see what happens</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. The Meaning of Hope</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Aziraphale, Crowley, and Warlock adjust to their new life. </p><p>Lucian and Gabriel find a lead.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So! I have a final chapter count now!! I’m fairly certain that we’ll be done at 16, but I offer you no guarantees lol. I’ll have to see where it goes. </p><p>Please take care of yourselves in times like these. This chapter may be a mess, I’m sorry, so thank you guys for bearing with me. Seriously, thank you so, so much to everyone who’s read and commented and left kudos, and I hope you enjoy the update!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“… and then, just before she hung up, Tracy told us that a little two-storey called Eden Cottage was available for rent if we wanted to look at it,” Crowley said, slouching back in his chair and grinning. They’d all finished eating supper some time ago, and at one point Newt had taken all the dishes to the sink, and yet none of them had bothered to leave their little gathering around the kitchen island, not even Warlock. By now, it was dark outside, the sun having set a few minutes back, and Crowley was getting tired, though he’d never admit to it out loud. </p><p>“Eden Cottage?” Newt asked. “Oh, I like that one.” </p><p>“It’s got a really big garden,” said Anathema. “I can’t really do much with plants, so I didn’t go for that one when I moved out here, but I did like it.” </p><p>“A garden?” Aziraphale asked, glancing over at Crowley. “Oh, that’s wonderful!” </p><p>“Could be nice,” Crowley said, even as his mind began to race with the possibilities. He could grow plants, proper ones, big flowers and vegetables and fruits. Crowley had always wanted to grow an apple tree. </p><p>“So, if all goes well, there could very well be a Serpent living in Eden Cottage,” Aziraphale said, giggling. </p><p>“Oi!” Crowley protested, more for show than anything else. </p><p>“They really called you the Serpent?” Newt asked. “It’s not just some aesthetic?” </p><p>“The aesthetic is part of it. Along with the eyes,” Crowley said, arching one eyebrow and making no move to remove his glasses. “The name came after the tattoo, though.” </p><p>“I’d been wondering about that,” Anathema admitted. </p><p>Crowley shrugged. “I’d had people calling me a snake all my life. I figured, why not lean into it?” Then he flashed a grin. “Plus, I was seventeen, and I thought it looked cool as hell.” </p><p>“It <i>is</i> cool!” Warlock enthused. </p><p>“So you’ve got a serpent and an angel in Eden Cottage, where you’re planning to set up a garden,” Newt said, pointing to Crowley and Aziraphale in turn. </p><p>Crowley nodded. “I’m absolutely growing an apple tree, doesn’t matter how much space we have. Guess all we need is Adam and Eve.” </p><p>“We know an Adam,” Warlock said. “Does that make me Eve?” </p><p>“Not until you’re sixteen at least,” Crowley said, pushing his chair back and standing. “Right. Angel, you need more ice, and Warlock, you need to go to bed.” </p><p>“But <i>Daaad</i>,” Warlock whined. </p><p>“Don’t complain, dear,” Aziraphale said, laying a hand on top of Warlock’s. “The sooner you go to bed, the sooner you can get up and begin tomorrow.” </p><p>“The Them said they’d be coming by for tea tomorrow,” Anathema pointed out. </p><p>Warlock glanced hopefully at her, then looked back to Aziraphale and Crowley. “Can I play a round of my game before I have to go to sleep?” </p><p>Aziraphale sighed. “One round only. You’ve had far too many late nights recently.” </p><p>“And keep the sound off,” Crowley reminded them as they leapt up and practically sprinted to the sofa, where they’d left their mobile during dinner. </p><p>Anathema broke the moment of quiet caused by Warlock’s abrupt departure. “I can’t believe you’ve only known them for a few months.” </p><p>“You have no idea,” Crowley said, grinning and holding out a hand to Aziraphale. “C’mon, angel. Let’s get you upstairs, yeah?” </p><p>“If you must,” Aziraphale said, smiling gently up at Crowley and letting him pull him to his feet and up the stairs. He ended up leaning pretty heavily on Crowley the whole way up, which wouldn’t have been a problem at all if not for the fact that he was so obviously in pain. </p><p>As Crowley helped him sit down comfortably on the bed, Aziraphale let his eyes flutter shut, a brief grimace of pain flitting across his face just for an instant, and Crowley knew immediately that it was way, way worse than Aziraphale was letting on.  </p><p>“Angel?” Crowley asked softly. “Are you–” he cut himself off, shaking his head. “Nope, not asking that question. How much worse has it gotten?” </p><p>“It hasn’t,” Aziraphale said, his breathing almost unnaturally even and far too shallow, his eyes still closed and his hands gripping the bedcovers so tightly that Crowley was almost afraid they would tear.  </p><p>“Aziraphale…” Crowley said softly. </p><p>“I promise, my love, it isn’t worse than it was,” Aziraphale said, opening his eyes and smiling utterly unconvincingly. </p><p>Crowley just frowned at him. </p><p>Aziraphale sighed, forcing himself to breathe normally despite the pain. “I think… I may have slightly... over-exerted myself today.” </p><p>Crowley took a step forwards, panic flaring up in his chest. Over-exertion with a broken rib could be devastating. Any complication with a broken rib could be devastating, they were so close to all the important bits... “Shit, Aziraphale…” </p><p>“It hasn’t really gotten worse,” Aziraphale said quickly. “I can still breathe fairly normally. There hasn’t been any damage, really. It just… <i>hurts</i>.” </p><p>“Ohh, angel,” Crowley breathed, crossing the last few steps to where Aziraphale was sitting before cupping his face in gentle hands and pressing a kiss to his forehead. “You stay right here, yeah? See if you can get some of your layers off, but don’t push yourself, okay? I really don’t want things to actually get worse. I’m gonna go find those pain meds, and every single scrap of ice in this bloody cottage, and then I’m gonna take care of you. Is that okay?” </p><p>Aziraphale’s breath hitched slightly. “Y-yes, but, but Crowley, you know you– you don’t have to–” </p><p>“I know,” Crowley said, kissing Aziraphale’s forehead again, almost desperate to show Aziraphale that things were <i>better</i> now, that he was <i>allowed</i> to be hurt and scared and cared for. “But I <i>want</i> to. I love you, Aziraphale, and I want to help you. I want to take care of you. Is that okay?” </p><p>As Crowley drew back far enough to scan his face, Aziraphale bit his lip, then nodded. </p><p>Crowley grinned down at him, gave him one last, soft kiss, and then left the bedroom, letting the door swing shut behind him. </p><p>There were exactly five ice packs in the cottage, as it turned out, and when he got downstairs, Anathema had pulled all of them out, along with two plastic bags, filled with ice cubes and wrapped in tea towels, and the bottle of ibuprofen. </p><p>“Thanks,” Crowley muttered, scooping everything up. </p><p>“Is he okay?” Anathema asked. </p><p>“Not really,” Crowley said. “But he won’t admit it.” </p><p>“If what Newt told me is true… it’ll probably take him a long time,” Anathema said. “It’s not gonna be easy.” </p><p>“No, I don’t expect it will be,” Crowley said, sighing. “But I’ll be there. No matter what.” And with that, he turned and hurried back up the stairs, and only partly because his hands were starting to go numb. </p><p>When Crowley opened the bedroom door again, he saw that Aziraphale was dressed in his absurdly adorable tartan pyjamas, sitting primly on the edge of the bed nearest the door, and Crowley couldn’t help but grin at him, even as worry built like a fire in his chest. </p><p>“Shit, these are cold,” he said, kicking the door closed behind him and dumping them on the bed before pulling his glasses off and setting them aside. “C’mon, let’s get you comfy, yeah? Scoot up, here, we’ve got all these pillows… how’s that?” </p><p>Aziraphale leaned back against the small mound of pillows that Crowley had piled against the headboard and smiled softly up at him. “It’s lovely, dear. Thank you.” </p><p>Crowley grinned back down at him, then reached out and ghosted his fingers down the button of Aziraphale’s top. “Can I open this? Just… y’know, so I can see… how bad it is, and all that.” </p><p>“Of course,” Aziraphale said, his hands jumping to the buttons. </p><p>Once the top was open, Crowley reached out, brushing feather-light fingers across the darkest concentration of the near-black bruising, then began to position the various frozen packs across Aziraphale’s chest and stomach. He didn’t dare look at Aziraphale’s face, not like this, not so close, even after having admitted how he felt. It was easier, somehow, to just focus on what he was doing, even as the layers and layers of bruises, some of them clearly months old and others obviously excruciatingly painful, made him want to race back to London and hunt bloody Gabriel down. </p><p>After a long moment, he was done, and he sat back slowly, carefully, sad to lose the contact for a moment before he remembered that he didn’t need an excuse. </p><p>“How’re your wrists?” he asked.  </p><p>“They’ll keep,” Aziraphale said. “The bandages aren’t wet or anything, so I don’t think we need to change them.”  </p><p>“Good,” Crowley said, moving around to the other side of the bed in order to sit down beside Aziraphale and wrap one arm around him, pulling him in close. </p><p>Aziraphale leaned his head against Crowley’s shoulder, and Crowley very nearly melted into the contact.  </p><p>“Love you,” he said, resting his cheek on the top of Aziraphale’s head. </p><p>“And I love you,” Aziraphale replied, closing his eyes. </p><p>They sat there in silence for a long moment, soaking in the peace and comfort of one another’s company. </p><p>Then a thought occurred to Crowley, one that made his stomach twist uncomfortably, and he said, “Can I… can I ask you something?” </p><p>“Of course, love,” Aziraphale said, his voice very, very even. “Anything.” </p><p>Crowley didn’t love the tone, but... they needed to talk about this. Sooner rather than later, ideally. “When… when we were talking, earlier. Just after Warlock left, before Anathema came in. You said something about… rules.” </p><p>He felt Aziraphale’s entire body tense. “Oh, I– I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I promise, I will learn, I just–” </p><p>“No, no, no,” Crowley said, pulling Aziraphale a little closer, rubbing soothing circles into his arm. “That’s not what I meant. Not at all. I just… I don’t– I don’t understand. What <i>rules</i> are you talking about? What– what’s going on here?” </p><p>Aziraphale took a deep breath, then said, very slowly, “I-in everything, in every part of life, there are rules. You–” Aziraphale looked up then, his brows furrowed. “I <i>know</i> you know this. Your parents were very like mine, if… if I recall correctly.” </p><p>Crowley blinked, frowning. “Our… parents?” </p><p>Aziraphale nodded. “And then the military, and then Gabriel. And now… us. There are always rules. Always things I can’t... can’t say, can’t do, can’t be. That... that’s just part of life.” Aziraphale’s words sped up, like they were spilling out of him before he could stop them. “A-and I promise, I swear, I will learn, but… but I’m not quite there yet, and I-I’m sorry–” </p><p>“Angel,” Crowley said, shifting away so that he could look into Aziraphale’s eyes, cup his face in his hands. “Angel, stop, please. I’m not– this isn’t like that. I promise. There aren’t any rules here. Not with us. Not like that. Shit, Aziraphale… I know that, after everything you’ve gone through, it’s gonna take time to be able to believe me, but I promise, I <i>promise</i>, I will be better than what you’ve been through. I don’t want to control you, or… I just want you to be happy.” </p><p>“Oh, my love,” Aziraphale breathed, reaching up and clutching Crowley’s wrist. “I <i>am</i> happy. Happier than I’ve ever been.” </p><p>Crowley huffed out a quiet breath, something like hope rising in his chest. “Must be a low bar, then.” </p><p>Aziraphale shook his head. “It’s <i>you</i>. You and Warlock. Our family. You make me happy.” </p><p>Crowley lurched forwards and caught Aziraphale’s lips in an almost desperate kiss, one that was still so unendingly, achingly gentle despite its urgency, and Aziraphale melted into it, clutching desperately to Crowley’s wrist and moaning softly. </p><p>After a long, long moment, Crowley finally pulled back, taking a deep breath, his eyes slowly fluttering open to meet Aziraphale’s once more, noting the way they almost seemed to glow even in the harsh, artificial light of the guest room. </p><p>“Thank you,” Aziraphale said quietly. </p><p>“No need,” Crowley said, sitting up properly and looking Aziraphale over. “How long has it been, now? For the ice? Not supposed to leave it on more than twenty minutes…” </p><p>“I think we’re coming up on that,” Aziraphale said, squeezing Crowley’s wrist where it was still cupping his cheek. </p><p>“Right,” Crowley said. “C’mere, love. Lemme just…” He arranged them how they had been earlier, his arm around Aziraphale’s shoulders and Aziraphale’s head resting on him. </p><p>“Thank you,” Aziraphale said again, nuzzling ever so slightly into Crowley’s side. </p><p>There was a brief silence, though Crowley couldn’t quite relax. He knew what Aziraphale meant, now, about the rules. He remembered how life had been with his parents, their unending insistence on obedience, their exacting standards. </p><p>Crowley had pushed back, and suffered the consequences. </p><p>Aziraphale hadn’t, and had faced consequences of his own. </p><p><i>What would our lives be like?</i> Crowley wondered. <i>If you had rebelled? If I had stayed? How different would we be, now? I wouldn’t wish what happened to me on you, but… but what happened to you isn’t any better, is it? I was so angry, for so long, about what my mum did, but maybe… maybe she did me a favour. I got at least a few years without the stupid Rules, before Lucian’s started to take over. You never got even that, did you? But you do now. I promise you, I swear on everything I am, I’ll do better. Be better. I’ll be better than all of them, if you’re willing to give me the chance.</i> </p><p>“Do you… believe me?” Crowley asked. </p><p>Aziraphale frowned, looking up at him with those stunningly blue eyes. “Believe you?” </p><p>“About… the rules. There not being any, I mean. I…” Crowley sighed. “I think I get what you’re talking about, and… I don’t want to do that to you. I don’t… I mean what I said, about this– us– being different.” </p><p>“O-oh,” Aziraphale breathed, looking away again, his gaze landing in his lap. “I, ah… I’m… I just…” His voice trailed off. </p><p>Crowley’s arm tightened around his shoulders, hoping to ground Aziraphale, to pull him out of wherever he was going. </p><p>He knew instantly that he’d done the wrong thing when Aziraphale’s entire body stiffened, and the words began to pour out of him, his voice panicked. “I, it’s not that I don’t trust you! I do, I do, I just– there are always rules, and I don’t– I’m sorry, I don’t mean–” </p><p>“Hey, hey, shh, it’s okay,” Crowley said, pulling his arm away and rubbing careful circles into Aziraphale’s back. “I know you trust me, angel. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that like that. I promise, it wasn’t a trick question. You were right, about our parents and all that. I want to do better than that. Be better, for you. I love you, more than <i>anything</i>, angel, and I don’t want you to feel like you ever have to be something you’re not, not with me. I want all of you. The parts of you that I know already, the parts of you that are funny and clever and kind and protective and brilliant and a little bit of a bastard sometimes, and the parts of you that are scared, and hurt, and angry and sad and messy and vulnerable. All I want is for you to be you. I want to love all of you, without any rules in the way. Is that okay?” </p><p>There were tears brimming in Aziraphale’s eyes, and he tugged Crowley close again, burying his face in a black-clad shoulder before he responded. </p><p>“Yes,” he whispered. “Yes, I… I want that, too. But I… I just… I don’t know if I know… who I am, without the rules. Without… without belonging to something, or someone. I’ve always… I’ve never been good at that, really, but I’ve always tried, and I don’t… what’s left of me, without the rules?” </p><p>“You get to figure it out,” Crowley promised, his throat more than a little dry. “<i>We</i> get to figure it out. Both of us. I, uh. I’m not sure what’s left, either, to be honest. Without the Serpent, and Lucian, and… all that.” </p><p>“What’s left is <i>you</i>, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, still not lifting his head, and Crowley could hear how his voice sounded thick with tears. “That was a part of you, yes, but it wasn’t everything. It wasn’t… wasn’t the foundation you built yourself upon.” </p><p>“Maybe not,” Crowley conceded. “But you’re you, too, angel. I need you to know that. Even without any bloody rules at all, you’re still <i>you</i>, and that’s the best bloody thing you could ever be.” </p><p>“You old flatterer,” Aziraphale said, laughing faintly and finally picking his head up. “You don’t need to lie to me to make me love you, I already do.” </p><p>“I’m not lying,” Crowley said, frowning. “Not at all. You’re the best person I know, Aziraphale. No contest. I meant it, everything I said, about you being brilliant and kind and good and all that.” He leaned forwards, pressing a gentle kiss to Aziraphale’s forehead, before he started pulling away the now rather melted ice packs. “I love you, Aziraphale. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. The best choice I’ve ever made. No exceptions. No rules. And I will say it to you, all of it, how wonderful you are and how much I love you and how I never want you to try and squash yourself down for me. I’ll say it every single day, as many times as you need me to, until you can believe it for yourself, and then I’ll keep saying it, because it’s true. All of it. I love you so, so much.” </p><p>Aziraphale beamed at him, his eyes shining yet again. “And you called me soft.” </p><p>“S’cause you are,” Crowley said, setting aside the last of the ice to deal with tomorrow and climbing back into bed with his angel, pulling him close, holding him carefully. “Another one of the reasons I love you.” </p><p>“I love you, too,” Aziraphale said, his voice wobbling faintly, as he pulled Crowley closer, curling into his side. “I love you ever so much, my darling. More than I could ever express.” </p><p>Crowley pressed a kiss to Aziraphale’s curls, breathing in the scent of him, soaking in his warmth. They lay there, together, safe, free, and eventually, eventually, both fell asleep. </p><p>### </p><p>
  <i>Gabriel’s phone rang, and he snatched it up off his desk, quickly glancing towards the door to his office to make sure that it was locked. “Any leads?” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Nothing so far.” The odd nasally quality to Sandalphon’s voice was even more pronounced over the phone. “Are you sure that this is the best use of my time?” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Of course it is!” Gabriel snapped. “I can’t let it get out that he got away, and you’re the only one I can trust.” And the only one stupid enough not to use Gabriel’s failure against him, but he wasn’t about to say that out loud. “Just… get back to work. Don’t call me again unless you’ve got something!” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Michael is concerned,” Sandalphon said. “She thinks this is clouding your judgement.” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Michael can shut the fuck up about what she doesn’t understand,” Gabriel snapped. “Now get back to your fucking job! What do I pay you for?” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Right away,” Sandalphon said. “Sorry to bother you.” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>After Gabriel hung up, Sandalphon stared at his screen for a moment more, a frown working its way across his face. </i>
</p><p><i>Eventually, he dialed Michael’s number instead.</i> </p><p>### </p><p>Aziraphale was sitting on the sofa in the sitting room of Eden Cottage, poking at his new mobile as the television played in the background. Crowley had tried to introduce him to something called Candy Crush, which hadn’t gone particularly well, though after that, it hadn’t taken Aziraphale particularly long to stumble across some book forums on the Internet, where he was currently engaged in a spirited argument over the comparative literary merits of Oscar Wilde and J. D. Salinger (there was no question in Aziraphale’s mind, though it seemed that this less-than-charming American fellow disagreed rather vehemently). Newt was in the kitchen, baking something that smelled delectable in an oven that had to be at least fifty years old. Crowley was sitting beside Aziraphale on the sofa with arm around his shoulders, and Warlock had left some time ago with the Them, as had become their routine in the past four days. Tracy had just left after a brief afternoon tea, and Anathema would be returning home from the occult shop in a little under two hours. </p><p>Crowley had insisted that Aziraphale take it easier after the exertions of their first day here, so they hadn’t been around to visit Eden Cottage yet. That hadn’t stopped the rest of Tadfield from coming to visit <i>them</i>, however, and already Aziraphale and Crowley had met the parents of all of the Them, R. P. Tyler of the neighbourhood watch, the baker, Neil, who had brought the most delicious scones, Mr. and Mrs. Bradley, who ran the estate agency that was renting Eden Cottage and had declared Crowley and Aziraphale to be a lovely couple, and half a dozen other people from the village who had stopped in during an impromptu tea party the day before and whose names Aziraphale had, in all honesty, largely forgotten in the rush. He had begged Tracy for a reprieve for the day, and Crowley had agreed, growling that the people of Tadfield could bloody well wait until Aziraphale’s ribs had healed to come around and gawk at their newest resident queer couple. </p><p>And so, today had been quiet, and calm, for the first time since their escape. Aziraphale leaned a little more heavily into Crowley’s side, writing off this particular American as a lost cause. Crowley pressed an almost absent-minded kiss into his hair, eyes still glued to the television, which was playing reruns of a show called Golden Girls, which seemed to have him utterly entranced. Aziraphale was at a perfect angle to see his eyes underneath the sunglasses, and they were crinkled ever so slightly into a smile. </p><p>Aziraphale felt that almost-familiar ache of love once again as he looked back down, leaning his head against Crowley’s shoulder and searching for a more productive discussion thread. </p><p>Some minutes later, Crowley finally broke their comfortable pseudo-silence. “Hey, angel?” </p><p>“Hm?” Aziraphale murmured, not bothering to pick his head up. With how bony he was, Crowley had absolutely no business being such a comfortable pillow. </p><p>“How long is it okay for a book to sit in a hot car?” </p><p>Aziraphale frowned, setting his mobile down to ponder the question properly. “Well, that would depend on a couple of factors. Largely, the humidity and the method of binding used. High humidity could warp the pages, much like normal water damage, or encourage mould growth, and humidity that’s too low could cause the pages to become brittle. On top of that, for some books, depending on the temperature, the glue binding may begin to melt. But none of that ought to happen if one leaves their books out overnight for a night or two, though older books are more susceptible to damage in general.” He looked up at Crowley then, his brow furrowed. “Why do you ask?” </p><p>Crowley grimaced. “We, ah, should probably think about looking that that cottage sooner rather than later. I’d feel awful if I messed up your books by accident.” </p><p>Aziraphale felt rather as though he’d been punched in the gut at the mention of his books. “My– Crowley, we left my books behind. A-and that was the right thing to do, I know, they’re just things, and yours and Warlock’s safety is infinitely more important than they were, but… I’m afraid there’s not much I can do from here to protect them from heat damage.” </p><p>Crowley’s arm tightened around him, pulling him a little closer. “Your parents left you the Bibles, the prophecies, and the Wildes, right?” </p><p>Aziraphale nodded, biting his lip to keep from crying. Oh, they were just stupid <i>books</i>. Why was he getting so upset? </p><p>“And your other favourites were the Shakespeares, the Heyers, and the Pratchetts, yeah?” Crowley asked. </p><p>Aziraphale squeezed his eyes shut. “My dear, I know you mean well, but <i>please</i>–” </p><p>“I grabbed them,” Crowley said. “On the way out of the shop, after Warlock and I took out Hastur and Ligur, I grabbed the books. Those books. I wanted to take more, but I couldn’t fit them, I’m sorry.” </p><p>Aziraphale’s eyes flew open, and he sat up, staring at Crowley, his heart racing. </p><p>“I know it’s not… not much,” Crowley said. “Especially compared to what your collection was. And I know how much each and every book in there meant to you, and I just… I wish I could have saved them all. But I, I thought, well, I figured it’s better than nothing, and we can rebuild at least some of it, yeah? I mean, there’s gotta be more copies of– <i>mmph</i>!” </p><p>Aziraphale had launched himself at Crowley, catching him in a frantic kiss, pouring all of his wild, rampant gratitude into the gesture, hoping desperately that Crowley understood. </p><p>After a long, long moment, Aziraphale drew back, his gaze searching Crowley’s face. “You saved my books.” </p><p>“I– yeah.” </p><p>“You saved my <i>favourite</i> books,” Aziraphale said, nearly tearing up again. He’d been doing a lot of that in the past few days. </p><p>“Yeah,” Crowley said again, sounding a little more confident this time. </p><p>“Oh, <i>Crowley</i>,” Aziraphale said, leaning in again. </p><p>Crowley hummed happily, kissing Aziraphale back, and Aziraphale clung to him, not ever wanting to let go. </p><p>Aziraphale wasn’t sure that anyone else in his entire life had known what his favourite books were. His parents had largely discouraged reading for pleasure, he hadn’t exactly made many literary-minded friends in the military (or many friends at all, beyond Gabriel, though that was hardly the point), and Gabriel largely disapproved of most of Aziraphale’s choices in literature, and had certainly never gone out of his way to learn what Aziraphale preferred. </p><p>And Crowley had to have done that, at least to some degree. Aziraphale did talk about his books on a fairly regular basis with Crowley, but he had never out-and-out said which ones he preferred. Crowley had to have been truly listening, paying attention to which books Aziraphale mentioned most often, to which books he read over and over again. It was… it was strange, and wonderful, and Aziraphale found himself falling even further in love, as he seemed to be doing every single day. </p><p>This time, it was Crowley who broke the kiss first, grinning cheekily as he did, his hand still resting where it had migrated to on Aziraphale’s cheek. “I take it that means I did well?” </p><p>“I can’t believe you saved my books,” Aziraphale said, leaning into Crowley’s hand for a moment before settling back in against his side, wincing slightly as the motion jostled his still-sore ribs. “<i>Thank you</i>. Thank you so, so much, my love.” </p><p>“They were important to you,” Crowley said, like it was obvious. “So they were important to me, too.” </p><p>“Darling, if you don’t stop saying things like that, I’m not certain I’ll ever be able to stop kissing you,” Aziraphale said. </p><p>“I really don’t think that’s as much of a deterrent as you meant it to be.” </p><p>“Now, whoever said I meant it as a deterrent at all?” Aziraphale asked, looking up at Crowley and smiling. </p><p>Crowley grinned back at him, leaning in for yet another kiss. </p><p>This one wasn’t nearly so long, nor was it as urgent, but Aziraphale still melted in it, revelling in the softness of Crowley’s lips, the gentleness of his touch. </p><p>When Crowley drew back this time, Aziraphale kept his eyes closed for a moment longer, just soaking in the moment. </p><p>“You alright, love?” Crowley asked. </p><p>Aziraphale couldn’t have stopped his smile if he wanted to when he opened his eyes to see that Crowley’s glasses had been pushed up to his forehead. “Never better, dear. Thank you.” </p><p>“Anything for you,” Crowley said, giving Aziraphale one last peck on the lips before resettling his glasses on his face and returning his gaze to the television. </p><p>Aziraphale leaned his head against Crowley’s shoulder, turning his mobile on once more as Crowley’s head dropped down to rest against his own. </p><p><i>I get to have this</i>, Aziraphale thought, his chest aching in a way that, for once, had absolutely nothing to do with his ribs. <i>I get to have </i>him<i>. How on Earth did I ever get so lucky?</i> </p><p>And so, another day passed, calm and quiet and undisturbed by their pasts, and hope bloomed just a little brighter in Aziraphale’s mind. </p><p>### </p><p>
  <i>There was a knock on Lucian’s office door, and he looked up from his research– Crowley had more bank accounts than expected, and so far Lucian had only found two of them– with a soft sigh and a call of “Come in.” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>The door swung open to reveal Beez, standing there with zir hands on zir hips. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Ah, how wonderful,” Lucian said, standing up from his desk and smiling at Beez. “How are things out there?” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Shitty,” said Beez bluntly. “The Archangels are making a big push right now, while you’re all diztracted. There’z been some discontent among lower management over the whole thing.” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Well, that’s what I have you for, isn’t it?” Lucian said. “I really must get back to work, I’m afraid. I’m sure you can handle this on your own. Can’t you?” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Of course,” Beez said. “Just thought you’d want to know.” Ze glanced around almost nervously, then asked quickly, “Iz Crowley really worth all thiz?” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“You know how profitable his work is,” Lucian said. “I can’t let that slip away.” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“What would you call my work?” Beez asked. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Essential, you know that,” Lucian said, rolling his eyes. “Now, go. We both have jobs to do.” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Yes, sir,” Beez said, slipping back out the way ze came. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>As soon as ze was out of earshot of the door, ze pulled out zir mobile. “Hey. Dagon. It’zz me. We need to talk.” </i>
</p><p>### </p><p>Warlock stared at the walls of their new bedroom, feeling more than a little bit overwhelmed. Dad was outside, shouting at the overgrown plants in the garden, and Pop was organizing his books downstairs in what would someday be the library. They had both told Warlock to go start setting up their room the way they liked it, and the only rules were that there had to be a path from the door to the bed, in case of emergency, and that Warlock had to be ready for dinner at six. </p><p>The only problem was… Warlock didn’t know what they wanted to do. They’d never been allowed to pick how they wanted their room set up before. Pop had even promised to take Warlock out shopping for new furniture once his ribs were better. Warlock had never been able to pick furniture they had before! Not once! They’d never even been allowed to choose what blankets they had on their bed. And now they had free reign over the whole room? </p><p>Warlock sat down heavily on the bed, where they’d already set Rover, and stared at their backpack where it was sitting, still, on the floor next to the dresser, beside the shopping bags holding the new clothes that they’d gotten today. It felt like… like if they unpacked, it would all come crumbling down around them, this whole new life they’d found ever since leaving London a week ago, and they’d wake back up in their old bedroom with their old parents and their old friends again. </p><p>A knock at the bedroom door startled them, and Warlock looked up to see Pop hovering in the doorway. </p><p>“May I come in?” he asked gently. </p><p>“It’s your house, isn’t it?” Warlock asked, kicking their feet out. </p><p>“I’ve never been fond of that particular mentality,” Pop said, not moving an inch. “This is meant to be your space, regardless of who is technically paying the bills. I won’t come in if you don’t want me to.” </p><p>Warlock blinked, more than a little surprised. Not that they really should have been– they knew their dads by now. “No, it’s okay. You can come in. I want you to.” </p><p>Pop smiled, finally crossing the threshold and moving to sit down on the bed beside Warlock. “You haven’t unpacked yet.” </p><p>Warlock shook their head. </p><p>“Might I ask why?” </p><p>“It’s dumb.” </p><p>“I assure you, my dear, it can’t possibly be any dumber than I’ve been feeling this week,” Pop said, smiling warmly. “Is there anything I can do to help?” </p><p>“I dunno,” Warlock said, kicking their legs again. “I just… I feel like, if I let myself get used to this, it’s all gonna go away. Like… like I’m dreaming, right now, and any minute I’m gonna wake up, and it’ll all be over. And then I’m gonna have to go back to my old life, where nobody calls me them, and you guys aren’t my dads, and I never met Adam and Pepper and Brian and Wensley, and I don’t get to pick the furniture in my room. And… and I’m scared of that.” </p><p>“Oh, my dear,” Pop murmured, wrapping an arm around Warlock and holding them close. “I, ah. I’m afraid I’ve rather been feeling the same thing, these past couple of days. And… I don’t entirely know how to deal with it, yet. But I suppose… waiting for things to go wrong doesn’t really do anybody any good, does it?” </p><p>Warlock shook their head, then buried their face in Pop’s shoulder. “It’s still hard, though.” </p><p>“I know,” Pop murmured. “I know, my dear. But it will get easier. And… well, I’m sure it will take some time to sink in properly, but I want you to know that your father and I would never let anyone hurt you, or take you from us against your will. This may feel like a dream, but it is one that Crowley and I intend to fight very, very hard to keep, if it comes to that. I hope that it doesn’t, but… whatever happens, you will be all right. I promise you that.” </p><p>“I know,” Warlock said, burying their face in Pop’s shoulder, and… and they realized, as they said it, that they actually <i>did</i> know. All of Pop’s bruises, all of Dad’s constant texts while they were out with their friends, everything that both of them had ever done for them, proved that they cared. They cared more than Warlock’s old family ever had. </p><p>“I love you, Pop,” Warlock added, throwing both arms around their Pop and squeezing him as tightly as they dared with all the bruises. </p><p>“I love you, too, dear,” Pop said, hugging Warlock back. </p><p>They stayed there for a long, long minute. </p><p>Then, eventually, Pop pulled back, smiling warmly. “Now. How about you unpack, love, and then maybe you can come downstairs and help me make dinner?” </p><p>“Of course I’m gonna help with dinner,” Warlock said. “You’re not supposed to be carrying stuff!” </p><p>Pop just laughed, standing up and walking to the door. “If you need anything at all, I’m just downstairs, and I’m sure your father has his mobile on him.” </p><p>“I know,” Warlock said again, and they did. They really did. </p><p>Pop vanished down the hall, and Warlock stared after him for a long moment. </p><p>Then, slowly, they stood up and crossed to the dresser. Pop was right. There wasn’t any point in waiting for things to go wrong. </p><p>With a new resolve, Warlock unzipped their backpack and started to unpack. </p><p>### </p><p>
  <i>Exactly ten days after Aziraphale and Crowley had left London, Gabriel and Lucian stood together in front of an antique bookshop, watching as flames devoured it from the inside out. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Are you sure this was a good idea?” Lucian asked, raising an eyebrow at Gabriel. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“He needed to learn that there are consequences to his actions,” Gabriel said, calm as anything. “This is what happens when he disobeys. Since you won’t let me kill your Serpent…” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“He has lessons to learn, too, never fear. I may end up killing him myself. I haven’t entirely decided yet.” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Whatever you do, make sure it sticks. If he steals my stuff again…” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“If he tries to run off with your pet again, I give you full permission to kill him. Though I will admit, I am curious as to your decision to keep yours around.” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“He knows too much, now. He’d be a liability. And besides, he’s cute enough, and he listens.” Gabriel grimaced. “Mostly.” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Hence the burning?” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Hence the burning.” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>They stood in silence for a long, long moment, impassive against the sirens and the screams around them. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>Then Lucian’s mobile buzzed, and he pulled it out of his pocket and grinned. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“We have a lead,” he said. “Apparently, two men matching our descriptions are renting a cottage in a little postcard village in Oxfordshire.” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Oh, awesome,” Gabriel said, grinning and clapping his hands together. “That‘s great news. Can we trust your source?” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Of course,” Lucian said, putting his mobile away. “Shall we head up there tomorrow, then? If they’re confident enough to have gotten a cottage, of all things, then I doubt that they’ll be running off again any time soon.” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Sounds good to me,” Gabriel said. “What’s the village called?” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>A dark grin spread across Lucian’s face, made all the more sinister by the reflection of the flames flickering in his eyes. </i>
</p><p>“Tadfield.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>As always, the next chapter will be out as soon as possible.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Trial By Fire</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Gabriel and Lucian arrive in Tadfield.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>On the eleventh day after their escape from London, Warlock was playing with Adam, Pepper, Brian, and Wensley in Hogback Wood, near the edge of the village. Pepper and Brian had started sword-fighting a few minutes ago, and even though it had mostly devolved into Pepper smacking Brian over and over with her sword by now, neither seemed eager to give it up. Warlock was sitting down with Adam and Wensley, yet again telling the story of the night of their escape from London. </p><p>“And then, I picked up the fire extinguisher,” they said, raising their arms up over their head dramatically, “and–!” </p><p>There was a sound, from the direction of the road. The sound of a car, rumbling past, and then… <i>stopping</i>. </p><p>Warlock froze, their arms still up over their head. </p><p>"Warlock? What happened next?" Wensley asked, leaning forwards. </p><p>"Shh!" Warlock said. "I just heard something." </p><p>"Heard something?" Adam asked. "What kind of–?" </p><p>"<i>Shhhhh</i>!" Warlock hissed again, jumping to their feet and gesturing for Pepper and Brian to shut up, too. </p><p>"Warlock, what's wrong?" Brian asked, but Warlock ignored him. </p><p>There was a voice, coming from the direction of the road. A voice that Warlock recognized. </p><p>It was one of the stinky men that Warlock and Dad had defeated, on the day they'd left London. </p><p>"Stay here," Warlock said, gesturing at the Them like Dad had at them, that day. "I've beat this guy before, but I dunno who he's with now." </p><p>"Hold on– can you actually hear the man from your story?" Wensley asked, jumping to his feet. "Should we go get a grown-up?" </p><p>"He's probably looking for your dads!" Pepper said. </p><p>"We need to stop him," said Adam. </p><p>"I'm gonna go get closer," Warlock said. "See if I can spy on him a little bit. Wait here until I signal. This guy is dangerous." Of course, Warlock had beat him before, so they weren’t worried, but they didn’t want the rest of the Them to get hurt. </p><p>Everyone nodded, and Warlock turned and crept up the hill towards the road, sticking to the shadows of trees. They'd gotten to be pretty good at sneaking around the estate, but the woods was harder, with all the dry leaves and sticks and all that underfoot. Slowly, though, slowly, they got closer, and could hear the poo man's voice, overtop two sets of heavy footsteps. They pressed their back up against a tree trunk, listening more closely. </p><p>"… the little brat, and then we can go home and I never have to talk to you again," the poo man said. </p><p>"Believe me, I'm just as eager for that as you are," said another, very nasally voice, from just on the other side of the tree Warlock was pressed up against. </p><p>They slammed a hand to their mouth, stifling their own gasp. They were close, and Warlock didn't know this new person. He didn't seem to like the poo man, but they were still working together. Why? What was going on? </p><p>Carefully, carefully, Warlock lifted themself off of the tree trunk and took a slow, slow, slow step. </p><p>A branch cracked, loudly, just under their foot. </p><p>Before they could run, there were two broad, brown blurs, and a pair of hands fastened around their arms, gripping so tight that it hurt. </p><p>"Hey!" Warlock screamed. "Hey! Let go of me! Let me go! Don't– <i>mmf</i>!" </p><p>A cloth pressed up against Warlock's mouth, wet with something that smelled like a hospital. </p><p>"Walked right into us," said the poo man. "Crowley's going to love this." </p><p>Warlock struggled, yanking against the grip on their arms, the hand pressing the cloth to their face, but it didn't work, and before they could even work up the breath to scream again, everything went dark. </p><p>###</p><p>Aziraphale and Crowley walked together through the main square of Tadfield, arm in arm. It was a quiet, bright, hot sort of day, the sort of late-August day that typically only existed in books and television. Aziraphale was leaning up against Crowley as they walked, not because he had to– his ribs really felt much better now, though there was still some lingering pain, and nothing else had bothered him much for a day or two– but because he could. </p><p>“You think they’ll be all right there?” Crowley asked, jerking his head back towards the school building they’d just left behind after registering Warlock properly for the upcoming term. </p><p>“I certainly hope that they will,” Aziraphale said. “They do seem quite taken with their new friends, and that Ms. David seemed like a wonderful woman.” </p><p>“I hope so, too. They deserve a break,” Crowley said with a quiet sigh. “We all do.” </p><p>“Well,” Aziraphale said, a small smile spreading across his face, “how wonderful, then, that we’re–” </p><p>“<i>There</i> you are! What’re you doing walking around in your condition, sunshine?” </p><p>Aziraphale froze, panic flooding his entire body. No. No, it couldn’t- he couldn’t– </p><p>Crowley spun them both around, and Aziraphale’s breath caught in his chest. Standing there, wildly out-of-place in this sleepy little village, stood a tall, narrow man with dark hair and absurd cheekbones who Aziraphale vaguely recognised as Lucian Sterling, and beside him… </p><p>“Gabriel,” Aziraphale choked out. “What– what do you want?” </p><p>“I thought that was obvious,” Gabriel said, grinning beatifically and holding out his hands. “I want my boyfriend to come home!” </p><p>“How the hell are you both here together?” Crowley demanded. </p><p>“Well, the two of you ran off together,” said Lucian. “We thought that a... coordinated search would be more efficient.” </p><p>“You two wankerss can fuck right off,” Crowley hissed, taking half a step forwards, so that he was standing just a little bit in front of Aziraphale. Something in Aziraphale’s chest squeezed at the sight. Didn’t Crowley know how <i>dangerous</i> Gabriel was? He was going to get hurt! </p><p>“Anthony, darling, let’s be reasonable,” Lucian said, and the smile that spread across his face sent chills down Aziraphale’s spine. </p><p>“Yeah, reasonable sort of went out the window when you sent Hastur and Ligur to kill me,” Crowley said. </p><p>Aziraphale grabbed Crowley’s hand, stepping up beside him. </p><p>“They weren’t meant to kill you,” Lucian said, rolling his eyes. “Just to… make you see reason.” </p><p>“Did <i>they</i> know that?” Crowley asked. </p><p>“Alright, while all this has been very fun, I do have a job to get back to,” Gabriel said, taking a step forwards. He was close enough to touch, now, and Aziraphale shrank back, almost unconsciously. </p><p>“I’m not– I’m not going,” he said, his voice shaking. “I won’t go back to London with you, Gabriel. I– I refuse.” </p><p>Gabriel snorted. “Right. Okay. I obviously let you get away with <i>way</i> too much bullshit. This ends <i>now</i>. You’re coming home with me, sunshine.” </p><p>"There's nothing you can say that could convince us," Crowley said, grabbing onto Aziraphale's hand and holding it tight. "You don't have any leverage over us anymore." </p><p>"Do we not?" Lucian asked, raising an eyebrow. </p><p>"I was hoping not to have to play this card," Gabriel said, shaking his head slowly and pulling his mobile out of his pocket. "But you're really forcing my hand here, sunshine." He pressed something, then grinned down at the screen. "Sandy! Bud. Tell me you've got good news?" </p><p>"We have the little brat right here," came Sandalphon's nasally voice, and Aziraphale repressed a shudder. </p><p>Then his words sank in, bringing panic with them. "Wait. Gabriel, no–" </p><p>"Perfect!" Gabriel said. "Show me– <i>perfect</i>. Good work, Sandy. Keep the camera right there…" </p><p>He turned the mobile around, showing the screen to Aziraphale and Crowley. </p><p>On it was Warlock, hands tied behind their back, on their knees in the middle of Hogback Wood, with Hastur looming over them. </p><p>"Hello, Crowley," Hastur said, a grin spreading over his face. "And Crowley's little angel. Was he worth it?" </p><p>Aziraphale barely heard him. His eyes were locked onto Warlock's. The poor thing was shaking, a gag tied too tightly around their mouth, their eyes wide and a twig stuck in their hair. </p><p>"Warlock," Aziraphale said, ignoring everyone else around him, his hand squeezing around Crowley's in his effort to hold him back. "Warlock, dearest, are you hurt?" </p><p>Warlock shook their head, then winced as Hastur growled down at them. </p><p>"He'll be perfectly safe, as long as you two listen," Lucian said, a small smirk playing across his lips. </p><p>"They," Aziraphale corrected, entirely unconsciously. </p><p>"You ssssick pieces of–" Crowley hissed. </p><p>"Now, now," Lucian admonished. "There's a child present." </p><p>Warlock's breathing was getting faster, and Aziraphale could see tears gathering in their eyes. </p><p>"Warlock, focus on me," Aziraphale said, risking another half-step towards the mobile, and Warlock's panicked eyes snapped onto his. Aziraphale smiled shakily. "Good. Good, love. Keep looking at me. All right?" </p><p>Warlock nodded. </p><p>"<i>Hey</i>," Hastur said. </p><p>"Come on, let's talk about this," Crowley said, and his voice would have sounded smooth and calm if Aziraphale hadn't known him quite so well. "We can work something out here. Can't we?" </p><p>"You know what we both want, darling," Lucian said. "I'm afraid that you're rather out of cards to play here." </p><p>"Keep looking at me, love," Aziraphale said again, squeezing Crowley's hand so tightly now that it must have hurt, but he oculdn't help it, couldn't seem to loosen his grip, no matter how hard he tried. "You know how much we love you, yes?" </p><p>Warlock nodded again, and Aziraphale smiled, wrestling back the tears in his own eyes. </p><p>"Good," Aziraphale said. "We love you <i>so</i> much, dear. More than anything. And we won't let anything happen to you. You'll be all right, dear. You'll be safe." </p><p>"They will," Gabriel confirmed. "Sandalphon and Hastur will let the kid go once we're all safe and sound in London." </p><p>Warlock let out a sound then, a panicked sort of muffled shout, yanking against the ties on their arms, and Hastur grabbed onto their shoulders, forcing them still. </p><p>"It's all right," Aziraphale said quickly. "You'll be all right, dear." </p><p>"Come on," Crowley said, and the panic in his voice was growing. "We can talk about this. We don't have to– to resort to <i>kidnapping</i>, or–" </p><p>"You stole something of mine," Gabriel said. "So I took something of yours until I get him back. Think of it as… collateral." </p><p>"You decided against making a bargain," Lucian said. "Come back to London with us, and the child lives. Fight back, and, well. Hastur has been rather annoyed about Ligur's passing." </p><p>Crowley's hand twitched. </p><p>"Warlock, listen," Aziraphale said again. "They're going to let you go. I'll make certain of it, dear. I promise you, you'll be all right. It only takes about an hour to get back to London, yes? And then you'll be safe." </p><p>"Angel, no," Crowley said. </p><p>Aziraphale glanced back at him, just for a moment, and felt his heart break at the look on Crowley's face. </p><p>Then he looked back at the mobile, at Warlock. "Once you're free, go find Anathema and Tracy. They'll take care of you, dear. You won't have to go back to the estate, not if you don't want to. Tell them… tell them what happened. They'll understand." </p><p>"Warlock, we love you so, so much," Crowley said, his voice low and quiet. </p><p>"You'll be safe," Aziraphale promised. </p><p>Warlock let out another muffled shout, yanking against Hastur's grip on their shoulders. </p><p>"We love you," Aziraphale promised once more, as Gabriel turned the mobile away from him and Crowley and hung up firmly. </p><p>"I ssswear, if either of you let your people lay a ssssingle <i>finger</i> on that kid," Crowley hissed. </p><p>"They'll be safe," Gabriel said, putting his mobile back in his pocket. "As long as you cooperate. And if you don't…" </p><p>Lucian tugged his jacket open, revealing a wire leading down into an inner pocket. "Beez is more than ready to make the call, I believe." </p><p>"We'll go," Aziraphale said quickly, blinking back far more tears now that Warlock wasn't watching. "We'll go. We won't be any trouble. Just don't hurt them, <i>please</i>." </p><p>Crowley just stood there, his hand still squeezing Aziraphale's, his grip iron-tight and his breath coming far too quickly for comfort. </p><p>"That's good to hear," said Gabriel, grinning. "Step one, I think, is for the snake to let go of my whore." </p><p>"Don't you fucking <i>dare</i>–" Crowley snarled. </p><p>"Ah," Lucian said, tugging on the hem of his jacket. "Don't do anything rash, darling." </p><p>"Crowley, please," Aziraphale said quietly. He didn't want to let go. He thought that Crowley's grip on his hand may have been the only thing keeping him from falling apart. But… but if they didn't listen to Gabriel, then Warlock… </p><p>Aziraphale had actually thought that they were safe. Oh, how <i>stupid</i> he'd been. He'd known better. He'd known not to get comfortable, not to trust in his safety. He'd known better than to think that Gabriel would ever be willing to let him go. And yet, here he was. </p><p><i>This is my fault,</i> he thought, as the steady warmth of Crowley's hand slipped from his, leaving him feeling cold even in the August heat. </p><p>"Good," Lucian said. "Now, I have a job to get back to in London, and I believe Gabriel intended to teach his pet a few lessons?" </p><p>Gabriel's grin turned sharp, and he winked and held out his hand. </p><p>Heart in his throat, eyes burning, Aziraphale took it. </p><p>### </p><p>Brian skidded back down the hill to rejoin the rest of the Them, who were all crouched behind a ridge, just outside of hearing range of the two men who'd taken Warlock. </p><p>"They're okay," Brian said. "The two guys were talking on the phone to their dads, who were with somebody else who said these guys here would let Warlock go when their dads were back in London." </p><p>"Their dads can't go to London!" Pepper gasped. "That's not fair!" </p><p>"No, it's not," Adam said, shaking his head. "We have to do something." </p><p>"What can we do, actually?" Wensley asked. "They're both grown-ups." </p><p>"Scary grown-ups," said Brian. </p><p>"We have to do <i>something</i>," Pepper repeated. "We can't let Warlock get hurt." </p><p>Brian and Wensley both nodded their agreement. </p><p>Adam frowned, his brow furrowing for a long moment. </p><p>Next to him, Dog let out a low whine, and Adam glanced down, then did a double take, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. </p><p>"I think," he said, "I've got an idea." </p><p>### </p><p>Crowley's mind was racing. There had to be <i>something</i>. Something he could do, something he could say, some way to save both Aziraphale and Warlock. There had to be <i>some</i> way out of this. </p><p>He'd just gotten everything he'd ever wanted. He couldn't lose it now. </p><p>The four of them were walking slowly back towards the edge of Tadfield farthest from their cottage, Gabriel and Aziraphale up in front and Lucian and Crowley following along behind. </p><p>"I will be glad to have you back, darling," Lucian said, running a slow hand down Crowley's arm. "I missed you." </p><p>"You have a funny fucking way of showing it," Crowley snapped, jerking his arm away. </p><p>Lucian pouted, actually pouted. It was significantly more disturbing on him than it was on Aziraphale. </p><p>"Oh, pray don't be upset about the murder attempt," said Lucian. "I was rather upset with you, and for good reason, I think. But I've calmed down by now, and I'm ready to accept you back. Ah, within reason." </p><p>"And what makes you think I will ever willingly work for you again?" Crowley asked. "I'm genuinely curious. Why would I <i>ever</i> choose to work with you again?" </p><p>Lucian arched one eyebrow. "You know what my benefits are like." </p><p>Up ahead, Aziraphale stumbled, and Gabriel yanked him along, snarling something in his ear, too quiet for Crowley to hear, but very easily understandable based on the way that Aziraphale's entire face went pale, and Crowley growled low in his throat, fighting every instinct in his body to keep from leaping forwards and tearing Gabriel’s stupid useless hands off of Aziraphale. </p><p>"<i>Oh</i>," Lucian said, pressing a hand to his chest. "You really are far gone, aren't you? You called him 'angel' earlier." </p><p>Crowley gritted his teeth and clenched his hands into fists. He couldn't attack Lucian, or Gabriel. Couldn't risk it. Didn't dare. Not with Lucian's stupid blood wire, linking him to stupid bloody Beez. He couldn't put Warlock in any more danger than they were already in. </p><p>"How <i>sweet</i>," said Lucian, smirking. "Gabriel's pet is a little snake charmer." </p><p>"Don't fucking call him that," Crowley snapped. "He's not a <i>pet</i>, he's a bloody human being. And you're sending him back into Hell." </p><p>"Oh, he's survived it this long," Lucian said, waving his hand airily. "Gabriel was so insistent on keeping him, I'm sure this whole thing will be forgotten in a few years at most." </p><p>"That's not–" Crowley growled low in his throat, shaking his head. "I don't expect <i>you</i> to understand." </p><p>The mocking little smile slipped off of Lucian's face. "Don't forget who you're talking to, darling. I'm the only reason you're still alive." </p><p>Crowley barely managed to keep from rolling his eyes. </p><p>Up ahead, Aziraphale and Gabriel came to a stop beside a pure white imported Lamborghini, which Crowley vaguely recognised as belonging to Gabriel. </p><p>"We're here," Lucian said, a grin spreading across his face. "Let's get comfortable, hm? We've got quite the drive ahead of us." </p><p>### </p><p>Warlock was absolutely <i>not</i> panicking. The rope around their wrists was too tight, almost cutting off their circulation, and the gag tasted disgusting, and the poo man– the one who'd hurt Pop before had called him Hastur– was still looming over them, and the other one, the short, bald, shiny one called Sandalphon, was looming as well, over on the other side of the clearing, and there was a stick digging into their knee, and their dads were being dragged away back to London– </p><p>So. No. They weren't panicking at all. </p><p>"Don't wanna sit here for a whole bloody hour," Hastur grumbled, plopping down onto his butt next to Warlock. </p><p>"We can't let the child go early," Sandalphon said. "Then we won't have any leverage." </p><p>"I <i>know</i>," Hastur whined. "Ugh. This was more fun with Ligur." </p><p>Ligur. Had that been the other poo man? Warlock thought so. </p><p>Then they realized. Hastur wasn't behind them anymore. Hastur wasn't watching their hands. </p><p>Slowly, carefully, absolutely terrified of what would happen if they were found out, not just to them but to their dads, Warlock began to feel around for the end of the rope. </p><p>"Well, I'm sorry that your brat killed him," Sandalphon said, not sounding sorry at all. "You can't have a fight without fighting." </p><p>Warlock blinked, momentarily taken aback by the absolute stupidity of that statement. Was this guy serious? </p><p>Hastur stared at Sandalphon for a long moment, then grinned. "You can't have a fight without fighting? Did you come up with that on your own?" </p><p>He was being absolutely genuine. Warlock wasn't sure he was smart enough to lie. </p><p>They went back to feeling around for the knot, barely managing to swallow down their noise of triumph when they found it. Hastur had started chattering on, loud and completely unafraid, and Warlock's fingers were scrabbling at the knot, loosening it, and the first bit fell open– </p><p>There was a sudden, deafening barking, and Warlock squeaked, jumping to the side, as both Hastur and Sandalphon leapt to their feet and looked towards the source of the noise. </p><p>Standing up on the far ridge, barking his head off, was Dog. </p><p>"Stupid little animal," Hastur growled, stalking towards it. </p><p>"Shut it up," Sandalphon said. "We can't be interrupted." </p><p>"No shit," Hastur said, creeping towards Dog, who was still barking unceasingly. </p><p>Warlock looked around frantically, still tugging at the knot, feeling the ropes grow looser and looser, until it was almost loose enough to get out. Dog was all alone. Where were Adam and Pepper and Brian and Wensley? Were they okay? Had these guys– </p><p>There was a sudden, loud <i>crack</i>, as Brian swung a cricket bat with all his might at Sandalphon's big bald head, landing the hit. Beside him stood Pepper, her wooden sword raised threateningly. </p><p>Hastur spun around with a loud shriek, turning his back on Dog, who immediately launched at him, attaching to his grimy pant leg, as Adam and Wensley darted down the hill, swinging a knobby old stick with duct tape on it and a broomstick respectively. </p><p>The clearing erupted into chaos, Brian and Pepper raining blows down on Sandalphon as Adam and Wensley chased Hastur, with Dog attached, down the hill, flailing wildly with their sticks. Warlock sat frozen, the ropes around their wrists falling to the forest floor and their heart hammering in their ears. </p><p>And then, as quickly as it had started, it was over, and Adam, Brian, Pepper, Wensleydale, and Dog were standing victorious over Warlock’s captors. </p><p>“You all right?” Brian asked, dropping the cricket bat and running over to Warlock. </p><p>Warlock’s brain finally caught up with what had happened, and they leapt to their feet and ripped the gag out of their mouth, proper panic flooding through their veins. “They have my dads. Two other men have my dads and they’re gonna take them back to London and I dunno if they’re gone already and I think they’re gonna hurt them and we need to go save my dads right now!” </p><p>Pepper’s eyes were wide. “I don’t think we can take down grown-ups who are scary enough to stop your dads.” </p><p>“We need our own grown-ups on our side,” said Brian. “Maybe we can get Anathema!” </p><p>“My Pop said to get Anathema and Tracy when I was free,” Warlock said. “But there’s no time. I dunno where they are! They could be on their way to London by now!” </p><p>“Actually, it hasn’t been that long,” said Wensley. “Brian listened to their phone call just a couple of minutes ago.” </p><p>“A couple minute may be too late,” Warlock groaned. </p><p>Adam stepped forwards, looking at the other three, a dangerous sort of glint in his eye. “Listen. We can do this. Pepper, you go get Anathema. Brian, you get the Shadwells. Wensley, Dog, and I will go find everyone in the village.” </p><p>“What is Warlock going to do?” Pepper asked. </p><p>Adam looked over at Warlock, who felt a dangerous sort of hope blooming in their chest at the sight of his grin. </p><p>They grinned back. “I’m gonna go save my dads.” </p><p>### </p><p>Aziraphale was shaking. </p><p>Gabriel still had a death grip on his arm with one hand, and the other was fishing the keys out of his jacket pocket. The keys to his car. The car that would take Aziraphale back to London, back to that empty, awful flat, back to all of the worst things about his life without any of the things he’d come to love, and his eyes were burning with tears that he wouldn’t let fall and his throat was closing and he could barely hear the threats that Gabriel had taken to whispering into his ear and his chest hurt in a way that had nothing to do with the ache of his ribs and he couldn’t stop <i>shaking</i>. </p><p>“Right,” Gabriel said, pulling the passenger door open. “In you–” </p><p>“<i>Dad! Pop! Wait!</i>” </p><p>Aziraphale’s head whipped up to see– to see <i>Warlock</i>, sprinting down the road towards them. Warlock. Safe and free and out of Hastur and Sandalphon’s clutches. </p><p>Before he realised what he was doing, Aziraphale was breaking away from Gabriel’s grip, running to meet Warlock, dropping to his knees and scooping them up into a crushing hug as Crowley collapsed into him from behind, tugging Aziraphale and Warlock both as close as humanly possible. </p><p>“Oh, my dear, Warlock, dearest,” Aziraphale murmured, his hands fisting in their shirt, shaking for an entirely new reason now. “Are you hurt? Are you all right? How did you get away?” </p><p>“I’m okay,” Warlock said, and they sounded like they were on the verge of tears, too. “I’m okay, Pop, Dad, I’m fine. Adam and Brian and Pepper and Wensley and Dog all saved me, it was <i>awesome</i>. Are you guys okay? Did they hurt you?” </p><p>A horribly familiar hand fastened itself around Aziraphale’s arm, yanking him to his feet, and he barely had time to let go of Warlock before he was being dragged away. </p><p>“You useless little slut,” Gabriel snarled in his ear. “I’m not letting you get away that– <i>fuck</i>!” </p><p>The hand was gone, and Aziraphale stumbled to a stop to see that Gabriel had staggered several steps back and was clutching his nose, which was spurting red down his pristine suit. </p><p>Between him and Aziraphale stood Crowley, his face alight with rage, shaking his hand out lightly. </p><p>“You fucking punched me!” Gabriel shouted, his voice distorted by the blood and the break, still holding his face. </p><p>“Be glad that’ss all I did,” Crowley hissed. “You will never fucking touch Aziraphale again. You will never come <i>near</i> him again. You will never come near any of my family, ever again. If you do, just remember, I used to be very, <i>very</i> good at my job.” </p><p>As Crowley spoke, Warlock stepped up beside him, taking his hand. Aziraphale stood on their other side, a protective hand on their shoulder. He had very nearly lost everything just now, and he knew, better than he’d ever known anything, that he would do whatever it took to protect this, to protect Warlock and Crowley and the tentative little life they’d built together. </p><p>“Oh, well done,” Lucian said, applauding slightly. “Crowley, darling, when you want said job back–” </p><p>“Oh, for God’s sake, leave him <i>alone</i>!” Aziraphale snapped. “Haven’t you done enough? He doesn’t need you any longer, not like you need him, and I’m afraid that’s your problem to solve, not his. Let Crowley be.” </p><p>Lucian arched an eyebrow, glancing over at Gabriel. “I thought yours didn’t fight back.” </p><p>“He doesn’t,” Gabriel said. “Usually.” The bleeding from his nose had slowed from a gush to a trickle, and he’d taken his hand away. Aziraphale was more than a little pleased to see that his nose was ever so slightly crooked now. </p><p>“Maybe you just don’t know him as well as you think you do,” Crowley said, moving in a little closer towards Warlock, and Aziraphale did the same, his body brushing gently up against their shoulder, an anchor, a shield. </p><p>Gabriel sneered. “Watch it, snake. After everything I’ve done for him–” </p><p>And at that, the last, tattered shreds of Aziraphale’s resolve <i>snapped</i>. </p><p>“Everything you’ve done for me?” Aziraphale said, huffing out an incredulous laugh. “You <i>stole</i> fifteen bloody years of my life! You– for <i>fifteen years</i>, I lived in fear of you, in fear of your rules and expectations and– you know, I never asked for you to find me a-and scoop me up like some sort of-of charity case. And to think– to think I believed you were <i>right</i>! You have brought me <i>nothing</i> but pain and fear and suffering, and worse, you’ve done the same for the people I love.” </p><p>“Oh, come on!” Gabriel said, taking a step closer. “You know he doesn’t love you. He’s gonna get sick of your useless ass, and when he does–” </p><p>“Shut the fuck up, Wright, or I swear to fucking God I’ll make you wish you’d never met him,” Crowley snarled, looming over Gabriel, his fury visible even behind the glasses. </p><p>“You don’t scare me,” Gabriel said, glaring right back, the effect only slightly ruined by the stuffy sound to his voice. </p><p>“I bloody well should,” Crowley said. </p><p>“You both underestimated us,” Aziraphale said, squeezing Warlock’s shoulder lightly. “You underestimated all of us. I trust that you can see that it’s in your best interests to leave, <i>now</i>.” </p><p>“If you think I’m going anywhere without you, sunshine, you can–!” Gabriel began. </p><p>And then, somehow, from behind Aziraphale, <i>Tracy’s</i> voice called out, “Coo-ee, Az! Mr. Crowley! Are you two all right up there?” </p><p>“Wait, what the–?” Crowley muttered, and Aziraphale looked over his shoulder to see– </p><p>Oh, good Lord. It was… it was all of Tadfield, or at least, all of Tadfield that he’d met so far. Adam, Brian, Pepper, and Wensleydale were leading the charge, Dog trotting happily at Adam’s heels, alongside Newt and Anathema on one side and Tracy and Shadwell on the other. Behind them were Arthur and Deirdre Young, Pepper’s mothers, Brian and Wensleydale’s parents, Mr. and Mrs. Bradley, R. P. Tyler, Neil the baker, a handful of other neighbourhood parents, that lovely young teacher, Ms. David– all of them. Everyone that Aziraphale, Crowley, and Warlock had met in the village so far, and even a good few that Aziraphale was fairly sure they hadn’t. </p><p>Warlock pulled free from Aziraphale and Crowley’s grips, standing firmly in front of them, Adam and Brian on one side and Pepper and Wensleydale on the other. Anathema and Newt came to stand on Crowley’s free side, and Tracy and Shadwell did the same for Aziraphale, who noticed faintly that Shadwell was carrying something that looked rather like a very old tuba. </p><p>“What…?” Gabriel said. </p><p>“Mr. Wright,” Tracy said, her voice firm. “Mr. Sterling. I’m afraid that you’ve overstayed your welcome in Tadfield.” </p><p>“Overstay it much longer, and ye’ll have the full might of the Witchfinder Army after ye,” Shadwell added, hefting his tuba, which seemed to double as some sort of projectile weapon. </p><p>Aziraphale couldn’t speak. It was all he could do to keep from bursting into tears. Frantically, his hand sought Crowley’s, clutching at it, his anchor in this absolute storm of emotions, and Crowley clung back just as desperately. </p><p>“Listen here,” Gabriel began, taking a step forwards.</p><p>“Get. Out,” Anathema said, folding her arms and levelling a glare at Gabriel that made Aziraphale shrink back just by proximity. </p><p>“Don’t you–” Gabriel growled, taking a step towards her. </p><p>Behind him, the passenger side door of the car closed with a soft sound. </p><p>Gabriel spun around. Lucian had rolled down the window, and was staring at him expectantly. </p><p>“I’m afraid that, with Hastur and Sandalphon out of commission, you’re my ride back to London,” Lucian said. </p><p>“Wh– bu– we can’t– I did not come all the way out here to <i>give up</i>!” Gabriel sputtered. </p><p>“Unless you have another trick up that ruined sleeve of yours, we’re outmatched,” Lucian said softly. “It’s time to go, Mr. Wright.” </p><p>Aziraphale glanced over at Crowley, who was staring at Lucian, his jaw hanging open. </p><p>Gabriel let out a snarl, taking a step towards Aziraphale. “You little fucking–” </p><p>Aziraphale flinched, taking a half a step back, but before anything more could happen, the people of Tadfield were closing ranks, surrounding Aziraphale and Crowley and shoving Gabriel back, very nearly slamming him into the car, pressing him away until he finally clambered inside and started the thing up. </p><p>It was… it was surreal. It was bizarre. It was… it was… </p><p>It was, perhaps, one of the best things that had happened to Aziraphale in his entire life. </p><p>“Don’t think I’ll forget about you, sunshine!” Gabriel shouted out of his window, one last time. </p><p>“I don’t expect you will,” Aziraphale said. “But someday, I might yet forget you.” </p><p>Gabriel slammed a hand on the steering wheel and threw the car into gear, and then the two most powerful men in all of London drove away from Tadfield, defeated. </p><p>The moment they were out of sight, Aziraphale felt his knees go weak, the adrenaline that had kept him standing leaving him practically all at once. </p><p>“Angel,” Crowley gasped, throwing his arms around Aziraphale, holding him so tightly that it hurt, especially with his ribs, but Aziraphale just hugged Crowley back just as tightly, squeezing his eyes shut against her another wave of burning tears, his hands fisting shakily in Crowley’s jacket. After a moment, Warlock wiggled their way in between them, and Aziraphale squeezed them close, too, sucking in deep, shaky breaths, fighting desperately not to break down as chattering broke out amongst the crowd around them. </p><p>“Come on, now, loves,” said Tracy’s voice, somewhere over Aziraphale’s shoulder. “Let’s get you home. I’ll put on a nice cup of tea, and you three can have a bit of a lie down.” </p><p>Aziraphale nodded faintly, only letting go of Crowley and Warlock as much as necessary to walk, letting the crowd shuffle them all down towards Eden Cottage. </p><p>Once they got there, Crowley unlatched the gate, then paused after ushering Aziraphale and Warlock through, turning back to face everyone else. </p><p>“Can we… can we have a moment?” he asked, his voice a little choked. “Just– just a little bit, for the three of us.” </p><p>“I’ll make dinner for six o’clock,” Newt said, his voice gentle, lacking most of his usual nerves. “If you guys want to come over, feel free.” </p><p>“Thank you ever so much, dear boy,” Aziraphale said. He was, in all honesty, rather shocked when his voice didn’t so much as tremble. </p><p>Crowley nodded, latching the gate behind him, and then he rejoined their awkward little huddle as the three made their up the path, into the front door, and onto the sofa in the living room. </p><p>“Right,” Crowley said immediately, once Warlock and Aziraphale were both sat down. “Warlock, are you at all hurt? What happened?” </p><p>Warlock shook their head. “I– I’m okay. It– I heard Hastur and Sandalphon coming into Hogback Wood while I was playing with everyone, and so I went to go see what they were doing, and they put a cloth over my mouth and I fell asleep and when I woke up, Sandalphon was making the phone call.” They grimaced slightly. “The ropes kinda hurt my hands, but I’m okay now. Just… tired, I think.” </p><p>Aziraphale took one of Warlock’s hands, then. There weren’t any lasting marks– not even a bit of rope burn– and a wave of relief flooded through him. </p><p>“Oh, thank heavens,” he breathed. </p><p>“Good,” Crowley said, pulling Warlock into yet another crushing hug. “Shit, Warlock… I’m so sorry, kiddo. I’m sorry we couldn’t protect you from that, I’m sorry you had to– that they would–” </p><p>“I’m okay,” Warlock said again. “You guys aren’t in London and you love me and I love you and we’re all okay.” </p><p>Aziraphale nodded, rubbing a soothing hand over Warlock’s back, a single tear finally slipping loose from his vice-like control, and he cursed himself for it. <i>Not now. Not in front of Warlock. The poor thing has been through enough today, he doesn’t need to see me cry, of all things, on top of that.</i> “That is the most important thing. And we are so, so glad that you’re safe, dear. I, oh, I don’t know what I would’ve done if they’d hurt you.” </p><p>“I’d’ve gone absolutely mental, I can promise you that,” Crowley said, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of Warlock’s head. “Utterly bonkers. A hundred percent mad.” </p><p>Warlock giggled, then yawned. “I… think I wanna take a nap. Before dinner. Is that okay?” </p><p>“Of course it is,” Aziraphale said, stilling his hand. “Today was, I’m sure, rather exhausting for you. Oh, my dear child. Go get some rest, yes?” </p><p>Warlock picked their head up from where it had been resting against Crowley’s chest, their cheeks slightly red. “Can you guys, um. Can you come tuck me in? I don’t really… I don’t wanna be alone yet.” </p><p><i>Oh</i>. Aziraphale nodded immediately, another few tears escaping his control. “Yes. Yes, of course we– yes, love.” </p><p>“Lead the way,” Crowley said, finally letting go of Warlock completely.</p><p>Warlock obliged, leading Crowley and Aziraphale upstairs, into their still-rather-sparse bedroom, where they clambered into bed still fully-clothed, huddling down under the covers, a lost sort of expression on their face. </p><p>Aziraphale bent over them, fixing the blankets carefully before pressing a kiss to their forehead. </p><p>“I love you, my darling child,” he breathed. “And Crowley and I will always, <i>always</i> do whatever it takes to protect you.” </p><p>“You’re safe with us,” Crowley promised, running a gentle hand through Warlock’s hair. “Promise. I love you, kiddo.” </p><p>“Love you, too,” Warlock murmured, and then they were out. </p><p>Crowley took Aziraphale’s hand yet again, leading him carefully out of Warlock’s room and into their own, where they sat down on the bed as one, a heavy silence settling over them. </p><p>Aziraphale squeezed his eyes shut desperately against the tears, against the memories, against the slowly-blooming bruises that Gabriel had left on his arm yet again after he’d dared to hope that he’d finally been free of him, against the after-shocks of bone-chilling terror and blind, useless panic. </p><p>“Angel,” Crowley breathed, an arm wrapping almost carefully around Aziraphale’s shoulders. </p><p>And at that, Aziraphale broke. </p><p>He turned his head into Crowley’s shoulder and clutched at him as great, desperate, heaving sobs wracked his body, even as his still-sore ribs very nearly screamed at him and an almost muted sort of panic at doing this for the first time in decades in front of someone else stole through him. </p><p>But then Crowley clutched him back, burying his face in Aziraphale’s hair, murmuring soft, soothing words in between kisses, and Aziraphale could feel the damp trails of Crowley’s own tears against his skin, and he cried harder, pulled him closer until he was very nearly sitting in Crowley’s lap as more than fifteen years’ worth of pain and terror and sorrow and loss poured out of him all at once, letting Crowley sway them both ever so gently back and forth, hearing him whisper all the words that Aziraphale had longed for so, <i>so</i> very long to hear. </p><p>“I’m here, angel,” Crowley murmured, his voice thick with his own tears, but he didn’t stop, didn’t hesitate, even as his voice broke on a quiet sob. “I’ve got you. I’m here. I love you, angel. You’re safe now. <i>We’re</i> safe now. I’ve got you and I’m here and I promise, I am never, ever going to let him touch you again.” </p><p>Aziraphale buried his face a little more firmly in Crowley’s neck and just held him as close as possible, his anchor in this storm. </p><p>It felt as though hours passed before Aziraphale finally cried himself dry. He sniffled softly, then lifted his head, looking slowly up at Crowley. </p><p>His glasses had vanished some time ago– probably before tucking Warlock in, now that Aziraphale thought about it, not that he’d noticed it then– and his beautiful golden eyes were red and puffy, his narrow cheeks stained with tears. </p><p>Aziraphale reached a shaky hand up to Crowley’s face, brushing the tear tracks away, the warm, comfortable ache of love settling somehow deeper into his bones. “Crowley. I love you. I love you so, so much.” </p><p>“I love you, too,” Crowley said back, a wobbly, watery smile breaking across his face, and Aziraphale wondered faintly how much further he could possibly fall in love with this man. </p><p>Gently, carefully, Aziraphale tugged Crowley down into a kiss, just a soft, shirt, simple brush of lips against lips, more of a reassurance for the both of them than anything else. <i>Still here. I’m still here. You’re still here. I’ve got you, and I love you, and I won’t let them hurt you anymore.</i> </p><p>When they pulled apart, Aziraphale pressed his forehead to Crowley’s chest, melting slightly when Crowley pressed his lips to the top of his head, not even kissing so much as... resting there, a warm, gentle reminder. <i>Still here. Still here.</i> </p><p>“Did you want to go to dinner with the others?” Aziraphale asked quietly. “Or would you rather stay in tonight?” </p><p>“Either way, you’re not cooking,” Crowley said, not lifting his head, his lips still brushing against Aziraphale’s hair. “I’m not letting you lift all those heavy pans, especially not today.” </p><p>Aziraphale let out a little huff of laughter, and he felt Crowley’s answering smile. </p><p>“I think we ought to go,” Aziraphale said. “Say thank you, for the… rescue.” </p><p>Crowley nodded, just enough for Aziraphale to feel it without it jostling them. “I’ll be honest, I wasn’t expecting that.” </p><p>“Neither was I,” Aziraphale said softly. </p><p>Crowley nodded again, then lifted his head, only ever so slightly, though Aziraphale still missed its warmth. </p><p>“We’ve got some time before we need to get ready to go,” Crowley said. “Honestly, I think Warlock had the right idea with the nap.” </p><p>Aziraphale laughed again, picking up his own head. “Naps are your solution to everything.” </p><p>“They always work,” Crowley said, grinning. Then his smile softened. “Honestly, I think it’s… not a bad idea.” </p><p>“I think I concur,” Aziraphale said, biting back a yawn. </p><p>He carefully shed his jacket and shoes as Crowley did the same, then let Crowley pull him up into the bed and arrange them both under the covers, both of their arms wrapped around one another, Aziraphale’s head pillowed on Crowley’s chest. </p><p>“I love you ever so much, my dear,” Aziraphale said again, tracing an idle shape against Crowley’s arm. </p><p>Crowley tugged him a little closer. “Love you, too, angel.” </p><p>“My dear…” Aziraphale breathed. “Thank you.” </p><p>Crowley hummed. “What for?” </p><p>“For… for giving me this. Without you… without you, I most likely never would have left. I would never have known… Crowley, you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You and Warlock. I don’t know– I would be utterly lost without you, my dear. You’ve saved me so very many times, and I– I love you more than words could ever express. All that we have, all that I have– it’s all because of you. Because of you, and your courage, and your– w-well, everything, in all honesty. So– so thank you, Crowley. Thank you for everything.” </p><p>Crowley chuckled softly, pressing another, shorter kiss to the top of Aziraphale’s head. “Funny thing, angel. I was about to say the exact same thing about you.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>There’s one more proper chapter after this, and then a little epilogue. As always, I’ll get those up as soon as I can!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. A New Normal</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Things get better.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you guys so much for your patience with this chapter!! It’s our last proper chapter, and I had some real trouble with it haha. I hope it’s good regardless!!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Crowley awoke to the soft, warm light of early morning. Aziraphale’s side of the bed was empty, but the sheets were still warm, and Crowley rolled over and buried his face in Aziraphale’s pillow, breathing in his leftover scent as awareness stole over him. </p><p>They’d begged off dinner last night– or, more accurately, Crowley had woken up in a cold sweat at ten minutes to six to find his angel and their child still out cold, and had called Anathema to let her know. </p><p>Now, it seemed, Aziraphale was up, and Crowley had to go make sure that he and Warlock were okay. </p><p>With a quiet groan, Crowley dragged himself out of bed and downstairs to the kitchen, where Aziraphale was puttering around, putting together breakfast. </p><p>“Oh, good morning, love,” Aziraphale said upon catching sight of Crowley, beaming briefly at him before returning to whatever it was he was cooking– pancakes? It looked like pancakes. </p><p>“Morning, angel,” Crowley said, leaning against a free spot on the countertop to watch Aziraphale work. “You all right? You got up early.” </p><p>“Yes, yes, I’m perfectly fine,” Aziraphale said, flashing Crowley another, rather brittle, smile. “I did fall asleep rather early last night, after all. We’ll have to drop by Jasmine Cottage, later today, to apologise to Newt and Anathema–” </p><p>“I called Anathema last night,” Crowley said, taking a step closer. “She was really cool about it. Said that we could come over today instead, if we wanted to, or we could put it off as long as we needed. She was, ah. Really good, actually. And so was Newt, but, y’know, from across the room.” </p><p>“Ah.” Aziraphale’s smile wobbled briefly before he turned back to the pancakes, flipping one out of the pan and onto a plate, which already held a stack that was, frankly, concerningly tall. How long had he been up? </p><p>“Think that’s probably enough for us,” Crowley said, getting more worried by the minute. “C’mon, angel, let’s go sit down and eat.” </p><p>“Ought we wake Warlock?” Aziraphale fretted. “Probably not, they had such an awful day yesterday, the poor thing, but these are never quite as good reheated… oh, perhaps I’ll make them more when they get up, but then these would just be going to waste and I would feel absolutely monstrous about wasting so much perfectly good food–” </p><p>“Angel,” Crowley interrupted, swaying over to Aziraphale’s side in order to scoop up the plate and turn off the burner. “Give it a rest for a bit, yeah? Warlock won’t care if the pancakes are reheated when they get up. You need to sit down, I think.”</p><p>Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “My ribs are fine, dear. Honestly.” </p><p>Crowley blinked. “I… actually forgot about that, but that’s a good point, too. No, I was thinking, how long have you been up? It’s only–” he glanced at the microwave clock, then did a double take– “bloody hell, it’s only six, angel–” </p><p>“I’m quite all right, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, and it wasn’t any more convincing this time than it had ever been before. </p><p>Crowley set the plate of pancakes down with a sigh, then turned to face Aziraphale properly, reaching out for his hands and threading their fingers together. “Angel. Yesterday was– it was bad. It was bad for me and Warlock, yeah, but it was also bad for you, and that’s– you’re– we don’t have any of those useless bloody rules here, yeah? If you’re– you’re hurt or angry or scared or whatever it is, you– that’s <i>okay</i>. It’s more than okay. I love you. It’s okay to let yourself feel things now, love.” </p><p>Aziraphale squeezed his eyes shut and nodded. “I’m sorry, Crowley.” </p><p>“Nope,” Crowley said, tugging his angel into a proper hug now, as careful as possible around his still-healing ribs while still squeezing him close, holding him tight. “Don’t apologise, angel. I love you. You don’t need to apologise for any of that sort of stuff, not to me.” </p><p>“You’re far too good to me, my love,” Aziraphale said, his voice slightly muffled from where it was buried in Crowley’s shoulder. </p><p>Crowley shook his head, jostling Aziraphale slightly, though neither of them made any move to pull away. “Nah. I’m barely as good as you deserve. Honestly, you deserve the entire bloody world, angel, but until I can find a way to make that happen, I’ll just have to do my best.” </p><p>“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale breathed, burying his face a little more firmly in Crowley’s neck. “I don’t want the world. I just want you.” </p><p>Crowley just hugged him tighter, pressing a kiss to his temple and blinking back a sudden wave of tears. </p><p>They stood like that for a long, long moment, just holding one another, and Crowley ran a slow hand up and down Aziraphale’s back, reassuring himself that his angel was there, safe, miles away from Gabriel, and Warlock was safe, too, lying in their bed upstairs, and <i>nobody</i> was going to hurt either of them ever again. </p><p>“Why, um,” Crowley began, “why were you up so early? Are you, like–?” </p><p>“I’m not hurt,” Aziraphale said. “Or, well. I may have a new bruise on my arm, but that’s hardly anything, really. I, ah. I suppose I had a nightmare.” </p><p>Crowley’s stomach twisted, and he pressed another kiss to Aziraphale’s temple. “I’m sorry, love.” </p><p>“Oh, don’t be silly. It’s not as though it’s your fault.” </p><p>“Wish I’d noticed,” Crowley said. “Kind of surprised it didn’t wake me up, honestly.” </p><p>Aziraphale shrugged. “Oh, I’m more than used to it, and I know how much you enjoy your sleep.”</p><p>“I don’t care about that,” Crowley said. “Wake me up if you need me. Or even if you just want me. If there’s anything I can possibly do to make you feel better, feel free to wake me up for it, yeah?” </p><p>“Only if you promise to do the same,” Aziraphale said, after only a moment’s hesitation. “I know you, love, and you sleep like the dead most of the time. If you woke up in order to tell Anathema and Newt we weren’t dropping by… there’s a reason for that, isn’t there?” </p><p>Crowley kisses Aziraphale again, somewhere on the side of his face, slightly distracted by his own surprise. “I… yeah. I was… it was a rough day yesterday.” </p><p>Aziraphale huffed out a soft laugh. “That it was.” </p><p>They stood there for another long moment, swaying ever so slightly back and forth, until Crowley’s eyes landed on the plate of rapidly-cooling pancakes, and he forced himself to draw back, though not before kissing Aziraphale yet again, properly this time. </p><p>“You made all this food, angel,” Crowley said, squeezing Aziraphale’s hand before letting go in order to scoop the plate back up. “Shouldn’t waste it, should we?” </p><p>“No, we probably shouldn’t,” Aziraphale confirmed, letting Crowley lead him into what currently passed for the dining room, and so their day began. </p><p>###</p><p>Warlock was scared. </p><p>Honestly, it was dumb that they were scared. There was nothing to be scared <i>of</i>, not anymore. Two days ago, Pop and Dad and everyone in the village had made Lucian and Gabriel go away, and they hadn’t even hurt Warlock, not really, and it was Warlock’s own fault they’d got caught in the first place, trying to go be some kind of dumb hero, but… </p><p>But they just couldn’t stop being scared. </p><p>It was two days after… after what happened, and Warlock was sitting in their room, staring at the loading screen of their game without seeing a thing when a knock sounded on their door. </p><p>“What?” they called, giving up on the game and turning their phone off. </p><p>“May we come in, dear?” Pop asked. </p><p>Warlock grumbled quietly for a moment, flopping back onto their bed, then said, “Sure, fine.” </p><p>The door opened to reveal Dad and Pop, standing there with matching frowns on their faces. </p><p>“Your friends are here again,” Pop said softly, making his way over to the bed and perching almost nervously on the edge of it. “They’re out in the front garden, they said they’d wait for you if you wanted to go out.” </p><p>Warlock shuddered. “Tell them I’m good.” </p><p>“We’re not gonna lie to you friends for you,” said Dad, leaning against the doorframe and frowning faintly. His sunglasses were off, which was actually a little annoying, because it meant that Warlock could see in his eyes just how worried he was. “We know you’re not <i>good</i>, kiddo, and so do they, I think.” </p><p>“You haven’t been out with you friends since… well,” Pop said, twisting and untwisting his hands. </p><p>“Don’t wanna go outside,” Warlock grumbled, turning their face into their pillow. </p><p>“Why not, dear?” Pop asked softly. </p><p>Warlock lifted their head just long enough to level him with their strongest pre-teen glare before flopping back down. </p><p>Pop bit his lip. “Yes, I suppose that was rather a silly question, wasn’t it?” </p><p>“Y’know, I don’t think it was,” Dad said, and there was a faint creak and a dip in the bed as he sat down, too. “Why aren’t you going out with you friends, Warlock? We couldn’t’ve stopped you from running off with them two days ago if we’d wanted to.” </p><p>Warlock mumbled something unintelligible, curling into themself slightly. </p><p>They could actually hear Pop’s frown. “You don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to, my dear, but…” </p><p>“I’m scared!” they burst out eventually, sitting up and glaring at their dads. “Okay? I’m scared to go outside. It’s dumb and I hate it and it makes no sense and grownups are shitty and the whole world sucks and I’m just scared.” They folded their arms tight and glowered down at their lap, hunching up their shoulders in a useless attempt to hide. </p><p>“Oh,” Pop said, reaching an arm out and tugging Warlock so, so gently into the soft warmth of one of his hugs. “My dear, dear Warlock, that’s not dumb at all. I’m afraid it makes perfect sense.” </p><p>“It <i>doesn’t</i> make sense,” Warlock said sharply, though they didn’t even make a token effort to pull themself away from the hug. “It is dumb. They’re gone. You’re here. We beat them. I shouldn’t be scared anymore.” </p><p>Pop shivered slightly against them as Dad’s arm looped around their shoulders, too, sandwiching Warlock between two hugs. </p><p>“You’re not dumb,” Dad said quietly. “It… honestly, it make sense to be scared. You… you’re right, really. About grown-ups being the worst. The world can suck, and you’ve already seen more than your fair share of that. And… and it makes sense to be scared. Hell, I’m scared, too. Both of us are.” </p><p>Warlock scoffed. </p><p>“There is nothing wrong with being scared,” Pop said firmly, rubbing a soothing hand up and down Warlock’s arm. “It’s a part of being human.” </p><p>“We can’t tell you not to be afraid, or that there isn’t anything out there to be scared of,” Dad said. “First off, that doesn’t work and is just bloody annoying, and second… it would honestly be a lie, and we won’t lie to you. But… y’know, the world isn’t all bad people and scary shi– stuff.“ </p><p>“It isn’t,” Pop confirmed, and when Warlock glanced up at him, he was smiling softly. “It’s also people who are kind and brave and good, like your wonderful friends, who managed to save you from two very dangerous people with a cricket bat, some toy weapons, and a terrier. It’s people like Anathema and Newt, who took in a family of strangers simply because we needed help. It’s people like Tracy and Shadwell, who regularly put themselves in danger to help save people from the same sorts of things that we were facing.” He pressed a kiss to the top of Warlock’s head, then continued softly, “It’s people like <i>you</i>, who chased after me and your father, even after everything, to try and save us.” </p><p>Warlock shook their head, burying their face in Pop’s shoulder. “M’not brave. I just told you. I’m really, really scared.” </p><p>“But that’s what being brave <i>is</i>,” Dad said. “Being scared, but doing it anyways. You are one of the bravest people I know, Warlock. And… y’know, it’s okay to need a break from being brave. But… hiding away in your room now is only gonna make it harder to go back out there later.” </p><p>“If you truly need more time, love, we will never force you to do something like this,” said Pop softly. “But perhaps… perhaps it’s time to go see your friends again.” </p><p>Warlock lifted their head again, their vision blurry and eyes burning. “What if something happens?” </p><p>“Then your father and I will come and fix it,” Pop said firmly. </p><p>“What if something happens to you guys?” Warlock asked. “What if they come back again, and it works this time?” </p><p>Pop shivered again, but Dad just wrapped his arm tighter around both of them. “D’you wanna know what my plan was, before you came running up to us?” </p><p>Warlock nodded slowly. </p><p>“We both had to make sure you were safe. That was… that was essential. So… I would’ve had to wait until we got to London. But as soon as it was safe, as soon as I knew Hastur and Sandalphon had left you alone, I was going to kick Lucian and Gabriel’s asses and come back here for you.” </p><p>Warlock blinked, looking up at their dad. “R-really?” </p><p>“Really,” Dad promised. </p><p>“We love you, Warlock,” Pop said quietly. “We will always do whatever it takes to keep you safe.” </p><p>And at that, whatever barriers Warlock had built up to hold back their tears just <i>crumbled</i>, and they collapsed into their dads’ arms with a quiet sob. Pop pulled them in close, cooing softly, and Dad draped himself over their back, solid and warm, a shield against the world, as Warlock cried out the pain and the fear of the last two weeks, cradled in the arms of the very first people to love them for who they were. </p><p>After what felt like a very long time, Warlock straightened up, sniffling and wiping at their eyes. “Th-thanks. I, uh. I think I feel better now.” </p><p>“Well, that’s good to hear,” said Pop, smiling down at Warlock, his own eyes a little bit damp. </p><p>“I’m willing to bet your friends are still outside,” Dad said, rubbing a hand up and down Warlock’s back briefly. “D’you wanna go join them, or should we tell ‘em to come back later?” </p><p>“No, I’m gonna– I’m gonna go with them,” Warlock said, standing up and making their way downstairs. “I’ll see you guys later. Love you!” </p><p>“Be back in time for dinner,” Pop called, and Warlock grinned, racing through the living room and yanking the front door open. </p><p>Standing there, waiting for them, just like Dad and Pop had said, we’re Adam, Pepper, Brian, Wensley, and Dog. </p><p>Pepper ran up to Warlock immediately and punched their arm. “You’re never going off on your own again. Got it?” </p><p>“Got it,” Warlock said, grinning and pulling her into a hug before she could protest. She just hugged them back, then let go, turning to face the rest of the Them. </p><p>“Actually, I think we should all stick together from now on,” Wensley said. </p><p>“Pepper should teach us all how to sword fight!” Brian said enthusiastically. </p><p>Wensley’s brow furrowed. “But she doesn’t actually know how to sword fight.” </p><p>“I can still beat you all, though,” Pepper said. </p><p>“Never mind all that,” Adam said, a broad smile spread across his face. “I came up with a new game, but it wasn’t right without you, Warlock. D’you wanna give it a go?” </p><p>Warlock started making their way out of the garden, walking right alongside their friends. Their friends, their village, their home, their family. </p><p>They grinned. “What’s the game?” </p><p>### </p><p>Aziraphale watched Warlock go, scooting closer to Crowley and leaning gently into his side. </p><p>“You all right?” Crowley asked. “Honestly. You doing okay?” </p><p>Aziraphale frowned, thinking. “I… I think I am. Or, at the very least, I will be, soon enough.” He stood up, then, and held out a hand towards Crowley. “We ought to afford Warlock their private space, especially as they aren’t here.” </p><p>“Probably right,” Crowley said, letting Aziraphale tug him to his feet and lead them both back down to the sitting room, where Aziraphale’s abandoned book and Crowley’s similarly-deserted mobile sat side by side on the sofa. “Brave kid. God, I love them.” </p><p>“They’ve gone through so very much, the poor thing,” Aziraphale said quietly, leaning once more into Crowley’s side as they sat back down in the same spots from earlier. </p><p>“We all have,” Crowley said, tugging Aziraphale close once again. “First thing tomorrow, I’m looking up the best therapists in Oxfordshire and getting us all set up. D’you think they’ll take public? Probably not the good ones…” </p><p>“Why wait until tomorrow?” Aziraphale asked idly. </p><p>Crowley shrugged, jostling them both slightly. “Aren’t those sorts of things closed on Mondays? I dunno. Seems likely.” </p><p>“I’m afraid I haven’t the slightest idea,” Aziraphale said. </p><p>“Why am I not surprised? Well. We’ll figure it out.” </p><p>“That we will.” </p><p>There was a brief pause, then, a silence that seemed so much quieter than the ones Aziraphale had spent his whole life accustomed to. Not… not in a bad way, just… different. A rather lovely sort of different. </p><p>“Warlock may have had a point,” Aziraphale said eventually, taking one of Crowley’s hands in his and threading their fingers together. “It’s just… how do we know that they won’t try again? Gabriel won’t…” A spike of fear shot through him, then, and Aziraphale squeezed Crowley’s hand a little more tightly, trying to ground himself. “Gabriel isn’t happy, I’m quite sure.” </p><p>Crowley grimaced. “I know. And I don’t… I’m really sorry, angel, but I don’t think we <i>can</i> know, not for certain.” He tugged Aziraphale a little closer, pressed a kiss to his hair. “But you’ve got me, yeah? And I’ve got you, and Warlock’s got both of us and we have them, and all… all three of us have this whole bloody village, it seems, and… and I think we’ll be okay. We’ll get through, whatever happens.” </p><p>Aziraphale felt a small, somewhat wobbly smile spread across his face quite without his permission, even as his eyes began to prick with the beginnings of tears. “Do you know, I think you may be right, my love.” </p><p>There was another silence, then, warm and comfortable, and Aziraphale opened his book once more, the soft rustle of pages joining the birdsong outside and the faint humming and settling of the cottage and the soft sounds of Crowley’s breath. The noises of Aziraphale’s new life, the life he’d chosen. </p><p>“You gonna open a new bookshop?” Crowley asked eventually. “Think I saw an empty storefront with a for rent in the village the other day.” </p><p>Aziraphale frowned. “I, ah. In all honesty… I don’t think I shall. It… it just doesn’t feel right.” He sighed. “I know that doesn’t make very much sense…” </p><p>“Nah, it makes sense,” Crowley said. “S’probably all tied up with him, in your brain. D’you know what else you wanna do yet?” </p><p>Aziraphale hummed softly, thinking. “I haven’t the faintest idea, in all honesty.” He shifted slightly to look up at Crowley. “What about you, love? What do you intend to do with freedom?” </p><p>Crowley’s brow furrowed. “Huh. Dunno. Haven’t thought about it, really. Was kind of focused on the whole… <i>getting free</i> bit.” </p><p>Aziraphale hummed again, leaning his head into Crowley’s shoulder. “Well, what a wonderful thing that we have all the time in the world, now.” </p><p>Crowley settled more firmly against Aziraphale, pressing yet another kiss to his hair, and Aziraphale could feel his lips curling into a smile. “Guess we do.” </p><p>“I love you, my darling,” Aziraphale breathed, opening his book up once again. </p><p>“Love you, too, angel,” Crowley said, and they settled once more into warm, comfortable silence.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The epilogue is already written, so I should have it up in the next few days. Thank you guys so so much for reading, and for all the kudos and amazing comments!!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Epilogue: One Year Later</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>One year after their escape, Crowley asks a very important question.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Last bit. Wow. Thank you all so so much for sticking with me!!!! Your feedback means more to me than I can possibly articulate. Thank you all so so much, and I hope you enjoy this last bit of fluff!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Aziraphale had been reading for several hours, now, though if pressed he didn’t think he could recall a word of it. He glanced up at the old grandfather clock in the corner and stifled a sigh, setting his book aside. Crowley wasn’t meant to close up at his garden supply shop for another few hours yet, and Aziraphale had taken the whole day off from the bakery, a decision that he was rather beginning to regret. </p><p>Resigned now to showing up unannounced and making a mild fool of himself, Aziraphale stood up from his armchair, only to jump and whirl around as the front door opened, revealing… </p><p>“Crowley? Aren’t you meant to be working until five today?” he asked, frowning. </p><p>“I was,” Crowley said, shucking off his jacket and coming to wrap his arms around Aziraphale, pulling him in close. “I didn’t… didn’t really want to be alone today.” </p><p>“Oh, love,” Aziraphale breathed, pulling Crowley close. “It was rather fortuitous timing. I was just about to leave to come visit you at the shop.” </p><p>Crowley chuckled, making absolutely no move to let go of Aziraphale. “Well. Good thing I got here when I did, then.” </p><p>Aziraphale nodded. </p><p>They stood there for a long moment, not moving, not speaking, just soaking in one another’s company, and Aziraphale squeezed his eyes shut and breathed in the warm, smoky, earthy scent of Crowley, reassuring himself that they were both here, and safe, and free. </p><p>A year ago today, Aziraphale had left Gabriel. He had run away from London with the man he loved and the child they’d taken in, and found a new home miles away. </p><p>It had been nearly a year since Aziraphale had last seen Gabriel, when he and Lucian had been driven out of Tadfield. Six months ago, he and Crowley had gotten a letter from Uriel and Dagon, saying that their respective organisations were, quote, “under new management”, and that Aziraphale and Crowley had nothing to fear so long as they didn’t make any moves against their former compatriots. For a year now, they’d been free. For six months, they’d been <i>safe</i>. And now… </p><p>And now… </p><p>“Have you seen Warlock this afternoon?” Aziraphale asked, drawing back just as far as required to lead Crowley over to the sofa and settle them both onto it. </p><p>“They came in to the shop with the Them ‘round noon to ask for money for ice cream,” Crowley said, burying his face in Aziraphale’s hair, his voice coming out slightly muffled as a result. “They seem like they’re doing better. Definitely better than they were yesterday.” </p><p>“Good,” Aziraphale said. Then he sighed, the memory of Warlock’s tear-stained face as they clung to Aziraphale’s middle after their party yesterday flashing across his mind. “Though I suppose that isn’t the highest bar to clear.” </p><p>“Fair point,” Crowley said. “They do seem better today, though. Think your little talk helped.” </p><p>Aziraphale hummed quietly. “I doubt very much that the actual words I said have anything to do with it. It was likely… largely the fault of the anniversary, I think.” </p><p>Crowley shrugged, then started swaying them both back and forth, ever so gently. “S’just a rough week all around, huh?” </p><p>Aziraphale huffed out a laugh. “That certainly is one way of putting it.” </p><p>Crowley snorted, wrapping his arms a little more tightly around Aziraphale, squeezing him close, and Aziraphale couldn’t help but remember how careful they’d had to be at the beginning, how different it felt now that there was no risk of injury from a simple hug. </p><p>A full year, now. A year without fresh pain, without constant fear, without Gabriel hovering over his shoulder. Aziraphale had now lived a full year of his life outside of the rules and the expectations and everything that had held him together before. And it had been, without a shadow of a doubt, the best year of Aziraphale’s entire life. </p><p>Aziraphale turned his head into Crowley’s shoulder to hide the sudden onset of tears, overwhelmed by it all for a moment. “I love you ever so much, Crowley. More than I could ever possibly say.” </p><p>“Ngk. Yeah. Love you, too, angel. So bloody much.” </p><p>Silence fell again, warm and comfortable, like a down blanket settled around them. </p><p>Then Crowley pulled back far enough to meet Aziraphale’s eyes, one of his hands sinking into the pocket of his absurdly tightly trousers. </p><p>Aziraphale sat up properly, frowning. “Dear? Are you all right?” </p><p>“Yeah,” Crowley said, flashing him a grin. “Yeah, I’m good.” </p><p>Aziraphale’s frown deepened. “You’re nervous about something. What’s happened?” </p><p>“Nothing’s happened,” Crowley said. “Promise, angel. I just…” He glanced around the room, then sighed and tugged his glasses off. “I, uh. I just… I want… I know the timing’s kind of weird, what with today being what it is, but… we’ve been together, properly together, for a year now, and I– I– bugger all, I had a whole speech prepared and now I can’t bloody remember it, shit–” </p><p>Aziraphale felt something, some burgeoning realisation, tickling at the back of his mind, though he couldn’t quite place it yet. “Crowley? Love, what’s going on?” </p><p>“Right, sorry,” Crowley said, shaking his head slightly. “Forget the speech. Can’t remember, doesn’t really matter. I just… I love you, angel. I love you more than I ever thought I could love anything. You– you’re <i>everything</i>, you and Warlock and this and– I know it, it hasn’t been a very long time, and I know you and I are still– and after everything you’ve been through… I need you to know that, it, this, I don’t… there aren’t any expectations, really, with this, it doesn’t have to– I know we’ve talked about it, a bit, but… You can say whatever you like, yeah? You can say no, and it doesn’t have to– to change anything, or–” </p><p>“<i>Crowley</i>…” Aziraphale was breathless, starting to see the shape of the realisation, and there was something warm and light and achingly hopeful building in his chest in time with the tears beginning to blur his vision, and he’d cried more over the past year than he ever had before in his life, but he didn’t think it had ever been because of <i>happiness</i> before– </p><p>“Right,” Crowley said, “sorry. I just…” And he pulled out of Aziraphale’s grip, and tugged a small black box out of a pocket it really should never have been able to fit in, and sank down on one knee– </p><p>“Yes!” Aziraphale burst out, his tears spilling over before he could stop them. “Crowley, I love you–” </p><p>“I haven’t even asked yet!” Crowley said, laughing, but there were tears in his eyes, too. “Let me ask you properly, angel, please.” </p><p>“Oh, all right,” Aziraphale said, “if you must.” </p><p>Crowley cleared his throat, then giggled, opening the little box to reveal a flash of black and silver and gold. “Aziraphale Zachariah Fell, love of my life, my angel… will you marry me?” </p><p>“Yes,” Aziraphale said, and he was crying in earnest now as he sank to his knees beside Crowley, his love, his <i>fiancé</i>, reaching out and cupping his face in his hands. “Yes, Anthony J. Crowley, I will marry you. Nothing would make me happier.” </p><p>Crowley let out some sort of odd hybrid between a whine and a growl and lurched forwards to kiss Aziraphale, pulling him close, and even in its frenzied desperation and fervent joy the kiss was warm and gentle and achingly good, and Aziraphale lost himself in it for a long moment until he felt the sharp corner of a box digging into the side of his face. </p><p>“The ring,” he said, giggling slightly and pulling away. “Crowley, watch the ring.” </p><p>“Right, shit, sorry,” Crowley said, straightening up slightly and plucking the ring out of the box, which he promptly tossed aside. </p><p>“Crowley!” Aziraphale admonished, the effect entirely undercut by his quiet gasp as Crowley took his hand and slid the ring into place. </p><p>“Do you like it?” Crowley asked quietly, as Aziraphale held his hand out to examine the piece. “It’s… I thought, with the wings and the gold and all, it sort of fits your general aesthetic, but then the black was a little bit of me, too, and… I’m sorry, that was probably stupid…” </p><p>It was utterly gorgeous. A band in pale gold, thin enough to be unobtrusive, that flared out at the top into two interlocking wings, one inlaid with white diamonds and the other with black. </p><p>“It’s beautiful,” Aziraphale said, taking Crowley’s hand once more and threading their fingers together again, revelling in the feeling of the ring between them. “I love it. And I love <i>you</i>, and that matters more than the ring ever could. If you had proposed with one of those candy rings that Warlock is so fond of, I still would have accepted.” </p><p>“Oh, really?” Crowley asked, and his smirk was only slightly ruined by the tear tracks on his face. “Well, if I’d known that…” </p><p>“Oh, hush, you foul fiend,” Aziraphale said, leaning in to kiss his fiancé (<i>fiancé!</i>) again. </p><p>They kissed there for a long, long time, more than long enough for Aziraphale’s bad hip to begin protesting the position, before Crowley clambered up to his feet, holding out his hand to Aziraphale. “Probably shouldn’t sit here forever, yeah?” </p><p>“Definitely not,” Aziraphale said, taking Crowley’s hand and letting his fiancé (<i>fiancé!</i>) pull him to his feet. “I shall have to let Tracy and Newt know immediately, or they’ll never forgive me.” </p><p>“Nonono,” Crowley said, grinning and tugging Aziraphale back down onto the sofa, just out of range of his mobile. “Wait ‘till dinner tonight. Just wear the ring and don’t say anything, wait to see how long it takes them to notice.” </p><p>Aziraphale laughed. “No, you’re right, that’s much better. Though we probably ought to warn Warlock ahead of time.” </p><p>Crowley turned pink. “Um. I, er, I already did. Sort of. I told them I’d be asking you soon.” </p><p>“Oh? And what did they say?” </p><p>“They said, and I’m quoting here, ‘Took you long enough, you dummy’.” </p><p>Aziraphale laughed, as much at Crowley’s frankly horrid American accent as at Warlock’s words. “Oh, good Lord.” </p><p>“Okay, look, that one’s not my fault,” Crowley said, grinning. </p><p>“Oh, that accent was absolutely your fault.” </p><p>“Nope,” Crowley said, shaking his head firmly. “I take no responsibility for how idiotic Americans sound. Even the ones we love. Anathema sounds like that, too, y’know, it’s not just Warlock.” </p><p>Aziraphale beamed, leaning in to give Crowley another kiss, this one much shorter than the last, whispering against Crowley’s lips. “I love you so very, very much, Crowley. My love. My <i>fiancé</i>.” </p><p>“Love you, too, fiancé,” Crowley echoed when they broke apart, grinning and tugging Aziraphale back in for another cuddle. “Hence the proposal, and all.” </p><p>Aziraphale giggled, snuggling into Crowley’s side, feeling utterly giddy. </p><p>It ended up being Anathema who first noticed the ring that evening, and the cacophony of well-wishes and questions very nearly lead to dinner being burnt. </p><p>“Wait,” said Wensleydale eventually (Warlock had asked that their friends be invited to dinner, given that it was also the first anniversary of their friendship, and Aziraphale and Crowley had readily agreed). “So you aren’t actually married already?” </p><p>“It does seem rather inevitable,” Tracy said, grinning. </p><p>“You act like an old married couple already,” said Anathema. “I can’t even imagine how bad you’ll be in twenty more years.” </p><p>“They’re even worse at home,” Warlock informed the group. </p><p>“Oi,” Crowley protested, and Warlock just laughed at him. </p><p>“Seriously, you act like you’ve been together since the beginning of time,” said Adam. </p><p>Crowley laughed. “God, I wish.” </p><p>“Oh, dear,” Aziraphale said. “You‘d get tired of me after so long, I’m sure.” </p><p>“Nope,” Crowley said. “Don’t think that’s actually possible. I’ll keep loving you until the end of the bloody world, and there’s nothing that can stop me.” </p><p>“Oh, my love,” Aziraphale said, blushing bright red and promptly leaning over to kiss Crowley in order to cover it up. </p><p>A chorus of <i>Ewww!</i>s sounded from the children, and Aziraphale laughed as he drew back and settled properly into his seat once more. </p><p>The conversation moved on, then, light and playful, and Aziraphale never once relinquished his grip on Crowley’s hand throughout. He felt as though he might burst from the sheer joy he felt, sitting here, surrounded by his friends, his <i>family</i>, basking in so much warmth, so much love. It was so different to everything he’d ever known before. So much <i>better</i>. Despite the date, despite the past, everything bad in the world– Gabriel and Lucian and London and everything else– seemed impossibly far away. </p><p>Sitting there, beside the man he loved, the child who had chosen them, the friend they all had made, somehow, Aziraphale knew… </p><p>Everything would be all right.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>For those who are curious: <a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/189631728/angel-wing-ring-set-with-simulated">this</a> is what I based Aziraphale’s ring off of, except in gold and with one wing done up in black. </p><p>Like I said up top, thank you guys so, so, so much for sticking with this fic!! I love every single one of you so much, and all your comments and kudos honestly mean the world to me. I’m gonna try to reply to the comments on this last chapter to show my gratitude a little more plainly haha, but if I don’t get to yours please know that I love you!!!! </p><p>Also, I’m considering a sequel fic focusing on Warlock and Harriet Dowling, set a few years later. I’m afraid I can make no promises, my track record is like with sequels is uhh nonexistent, but I’ll probably give it a try lol </p><p>Once again, thank you guys so so so so much for your time and support, and I hope that you enjoyed!!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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